


Batman Forever-The Rewrite

by OneUniverse87



Category: Batman (Movies 1989-1997), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adult Content, Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drama & Romance, F/F, F/M, Flirting, Latex, Multi, Rubber, Sexual Situations, Threesome - F/F/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:27:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25005400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneUniverse87/pseuds/OneUniverse87
Summary: Co-written with neostardustdragon101. Two years have passed since the events of Batman Returns, with the emergence of Two-Face and the Riddler, and Dr. Chase Meridian getting in between Bruce and Selina's growing relationship. Will the vigilante couple survive the latest adventure?
Relationships: Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle/Chase Meridian, Chase Meridian/Bruce Wayne, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 14
Kudos: 10





	1. Two Years Later, A Mad Man Escapes

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Batman (C) DC Comics
> 
> Batman Forever (C) Warner Bros.
> 
> Co-written with neostardustdragon101

It was a dark, gloomy night in Gotham City. Black clouds rolled in, covering the skies, engulfing the place in darkness with pouring rain. The grey streets were no less busy, as the citizens were going about their daily lives, running through the weather, and braving the cold October winds. Aside from a few criminal activities going on in the city, which was nothing unusual in Gotham, nothing around here has changed much in the last two years.

For as long as anyone can remember, the city has always been plagued with crime. Violence, hatred and so much injustice.

When had this place ever had a beautiful night? Like ever? 

About two or three blocks away from the towering skyscrapers, there was one particular street that was not populated by Gothamites, not far from the city center, was a lone Gotham Jewellery store.

From the side of the building, the alley was engulfed in darkness, a poorly dim lamp post barely shining, looking as old, shady, and damp, with no proper maintenance after many years of decay. With the sky darkening, the rest of the night didn't look much more promising.

Over the side entrance of the jewelry store, parked an odd brown van. The side door of the vehicle opened up, climbed out two men, one holding a brown duffel bag, visible shaking, and the other was armed with a beretta. They were dressed completely in black with sweaters, pants, and combat boots, and their faces completely covered with ski masks to conceal their identities.

The robbers had crept their way through the back entrance of the jewelry store, with the first one with a gun, who holstered his weapon to fish out what looked like a lockpick.

"Come on man, we gotta hurry!" one of the men said rather impatiently.

"Calm your shit man, you've got more chance of winning the lotto over running into them, so shut up and...got it!" The man said as he picked the lock of the store and made his way through the entrance.

One of the guys opened the door slowly, keeping an eye for any unseen lasers or tripwires that would trigger alarms that would alert the police, or worse, the costumed freaks who think they run the city like they were the sheriffs of Gotham.

To one of the robber's relief, there was no triggering mechanisms insight, as they stealthily walked through the door.

Outside just over the road where the robbery was taking place, a silhouetted figure was hiding in the shadows from the rooftops above. The figure stepped out, and it turned out that it was a woman in an hourglass body frame, swaying her way over the edge of the roof to squat down, causing her skintight outfit to creak loudly with each move she made.

She looked over at the jewelry store, her bright green eyes looking through the window to see the two men putting all kinds of pearls, diamonds, and gold in the duffle bag. Deciding on a course of action, she jumped from the ledge and landing with cat-like grace on her feet just in front of the van, blending herself into the shadows to swiftly make her way through the door.

The first robber was nearly done completing the task of shoving pearls, gold, and diamonds into the bag, when his accomplice next to him was looking over his shoulder, looking like he was about to wet himself with fear.

"I'm tellin' you, man," said the second robber in a panicked whisper. "I have a bad feeling about this!"

The first robber just rolled his eyes in annoyance. Why must this yellow belly of a man have to be so damn paranoid?

"Would you quit worrying and help me with the stuff, will ya!?" he barked.

"What if they would come? What if one of them is watching us right now?" said the other one, sweating with fear and a hint of edge on his voice.

"Quit being a chicken shit and start packing the jewels!" barked the first, had enough of the whimpering idiot. "No one will stop us, not tonight, or any night!"

"Oh my, I didn't take you boys for the type to appreciate fine jewelry." A husky, feminine voice called out as the two men looked up to see a woman dressed from head to toe in skin-tight black latex. She wore a pair of matching elbow-length gloves with sharp claws on her fingertips and matching thigh-high boots. Her face was covered, a black cowl with cat ears covering all but her beautiful ruby red lips, wrapped around her waist was a long bullwhip dangling behind her like a cat's tail.

It was Catwoman.

"Shit!" cursed the first robber. "It's the cat bitch!"

"I told you something like this would happen!" told the now panicking second robber.

"Shut it!" snapped the first, angry that his plans were quickly going down in flames. "Now, we have to deal with this costumed freak before we make our getaway!"

Catwoman stood firmly on her spot, waiting for one of the thieves to make the first move, smirking to herself, finding joy to see the fools in front of her arguing over their botched robbery.

The second robber whipped out his gun to point it at Catwoman. Before he could pull the trigger, she flicked her wrist with ease to bring her whip to wrap it around the barrel of the gun to yank it out of the surprised robber's hands and threw it behind her out of sight.

Before either of the robbers even had time to react, the costumed vigilante in black latex launched herself to use the sole of her boot to give the yellow-bellied one a straight kick to the face, which knocked him out instantly. The first robber stood flabbergasted for a brief second before looking at the smirking feline.

"C'mon, big boy," taunted Catwoman in a throaty tone. "Where's the fire in you?"

He lashed out in anger, just as Catwoman predicted, as he started throwing multiple fists at her. She easily dodged his oncoming attack before giving him a strike to the face, scratching him with her talons. The robber yelled in pain and rage, holding his bloodied face with his hands, but didn't see the finishing blow which sent him flying to the floor that temporarily stunned him.

Catwoman let out a satisfied grin on her masked features, flicked her fingers off her shoulders as if she were wiping some dust away.

" _Like the Red Triangle Circus Gang, piece of cake..._ " thought Catwoman in triumph.

It didn't take long for Catwoman to tie the defeated robbers back to back with an unbreakable rope, tying a knot at the end to make sure it was nicely secured so any of them wouldn't escape from the GCPD.

The first robber gave her a death glare, feeling beyond humiliated, as the feline vigilante tossed the duffel bag containing the jewels right in front of them.

"You costumed freaks had to go and ruin everything, don't you!?" ranted the robber, not liking the idea of being in jail one bit. "I bet you were showing us up and radioed Batman in for his help!"

"Oh please, I didn't need Batman's help to get the job done," grinned Catwoman in a taunting manner. "Besides, I'm doing just fine holding my own. And someone is not getting crossed off Santa's naughty list anytime soon, even though it's nearly Halloween." She giggled to herself at her own joke.

From the distance outside, she heard wailing sirens ringing in the air, signaling for her to leave. The latex-clad woman turned her head back to the tied-up robbers with a wide, mocking smile on her face, relishing the moment.

"Well, I'd love to stay and throw more banter at you boys," purred Catwoman. "But I'm afraid I must dash. Have fun behind bars." She flashed a wink at them before she leaped out of the store through the back.

The door of the main entrance was kicked open, and the GCPD rushed through to see the burglars tied together back to back on the floor.

"Police! Hands up!" ordered one of the officers, his gun trained at them.

About a couple of minutes later, order was restored at the Gotham Jewellery store. Police cruisers were at the front of the store, with one officer reporting in what had happened with Commissioner James Gordon. There was also a GTV News van that parked near the store, obviously covering the botched robbery.

Up at the same rooftop where she came from, Catwoman watched in the darkness to see the robbers being lead away in handcuffs, satisfied to see another work done for the night.

"Another night, another job done..." thought Catwoman, getting up from the ledge, stretching her arms upwards, and let out a sigh from the back of her throat.

She made a few steps across before a sound was ringing in her ear. It sounded like something anyone would hear from a mobile phone that only the user would hear, as Catwoman pressed her fingertips against the cowl where her ear was at.

"Go ahead, Alfred," answered Catwoman to the radio earpiece.

"The news bulletin is just in, Miss Kyle," announced the voice of Alfred Pennyworth through the commlink. "The report said that Catwoman had caught and apprehended the jewelry thieves. Nice work, by the way."

Catwoman grinned at the compliment, her persona slipped away, turning back into Selina Kyle.

"Thanks, Alfred," said Selina softly. "Anything else to report in?" 

"Actually, Miss Kyle," informed Alfred. "I've called to inform you that Master Bruce is returning home from his meeting."

Selina couldn't help but feel a delightful shudder of pleasure at the thought of her boyfriend, Bruce Wayne. During those 2 years since she had been with her knight in black armour, there never had been a single, dull moment with him. At every opportunity, she would flirt with him, and him exchanging it back at her which always leads to the couple making love or get rough with each other, either as their alter egos up at the rooftops after dealing with average criminals and robbers or as themselves after long, tiring meetings at Wayne Enterprises.

Granted, she had gotten used to being one of Gotham's heroes since she arrived at the scene, as well as with some much-needed training from Bruce at the Batcave, but she was looking for a bit of a challenge since there hadn't been any major criminals since Max Shreck and the Penguin.

Selina felt butterflies in her stomach when an idea formed in her head, a very naughty idea that she had planned for quite some time.

"Say, Alfred," pondered Selina to the commlink. "Would you mind telling Bruce that I'll be down at the cave as soon as he gets back? There's something that I wanna help him with down there."

"I will relay the message when the young master returns, Miss Kyle," replied Alfred, getting the full meaning behind the message before the link was cut off.

Selina turned her head to look over at the horizon, licking her red painted lips lustfully, as she unwrapped her whip, using her arm to swing it back and forth to flick it onto the nearby pole to swing herself off the rooftop.

* * *

Driving behind the wheel of his prized red Jag, millionaire, playboy, and philanthropist Bruce Wayne was speeding past the road straight ahead, making his way back home to Wayne Manor after another one of those long, exhausting meetings at Wayne Enterprises.

His business associates and employees knew that seeing him in the morning was problematic. Early afternoon the odds rose to about fifty-fifty, and by late afternoon one was far more assured of catching his ear.

Consequently, there had been a subtle shift of hours at the Wayne Foundation. There was no company policy or official memo, but slowly but surely, it became acceptable to arrive late and stay late. Wasn't that bad a deal, really; it was a nice way to avoid rush hour traffic.

Although when it came to beating traffic, it was hard to top the resources at Bruce Wayne's disposal.

With the meeting finally out of the way, he smiled at the thought of his girlfriend of two years, Selina Kyle.

It only felt like yesterday since she first appeared on the scene as Catwoman, and every moment he had with her was always a thrill. It was never boring or repetitive, and every night they had with each other was always different from the other.

It was amazing how fast those two years went by since he started going out with the blonde feline, and a lot had happened since then. From putting a stop to the Penguin's plans, as well as exposing Max Shreck's dirty secret to Gotham, forming a permanent team with her, all the way to locking up ordinary robbers and muggers. Since the Gotham news got hold of the Batman/Catwoman alliance, crime was nearly at an all-time low, but there will always be some minor incidents along the way, but as long as Gotham needs vigilantes like Batman and Catwoman, there will be right there put a stop to it.

He couldn't help but smile at the thought of when he showed her the Batcave for the first time not long after the incident down at the abandoned circus that was the Penguin's old lair.

Her reaction was something that he will not forget.

* * *

_Bruce stood at one end of the room at the window, his hands behind his back, deep in thought, as he waited for Selina to return from the bathroom to freshen herself up._

_It was the morning after the final confrontation with Shreck and the Penguin, and Bruce couldn't help but think about what had happened down at the old aquarium._

_What would've happened if that gunshot from Shreck had knocked him out longer than he anticipated? What if Selina had lost the majority of her mind and actually did kill him down there? He closed his eyes and shuddered at the thought if she had killed Shreck._

_Like she said to him, she wouldn't live with herself if she did commit the deed, and she would probably leave the city and never return for Bruce's safety._

_Thankfully, it never happened. He had got through to her before she did anything she will regret, he exposed Shreck's shady business deals afterward, and now she's in the middle of the process of moving in with him. He had to admit, aside from Alfred, he was not used to having some company under the roof of his home, because of the lost years he had to endure after the loss of his parents. In all honestly, he welcomed such a nice change._

_Selina had mentioned to him about her plans of moving out of her old apartment, and putting it up for sale after the New Year, and Bruce couldn't be happier for her. From all the women he had been with before Selina came along, none of them had once offered themselves to move in with him, and in his honest opinion, come to think of it, they all weren't Selina._

_Talking of which, Selina exited the bathroom, strutting her way over to him to wrap her arms around him from behind, and kissed his cheek._

_"Penny for your thoughts, Bruce?" asked Selina huskily, resting her head on his back._

_Bruce turned around in her arms so he can face her, before leaning forward to peck her lips, which she returned._

_"Actually, yes," replied Bruce, grinning at her. "There's something I've yet to show you around this Manor."_

_Selina cocked her eyebrow in curiosity, wondering what her new boyfriend had in mind._

_"Like giving me a grand tour of your home, are you?" she teased, grinning slightly._

_"Guess you can say that," replied Bruce, taking her hand to walk her further into the manor. "C'mon, there's something I wanna show that's even better than the rest of the manor."_

_Bruce took Selina downstairs that lead them back to the main hall, and turned to the left to open the door of the library. Being the gentleman that he is, Bruce let Selina walk through first before entering the room. In front of her, was an expensive grand piano with a bookshelf in front of it._

_"Out of all rooms in the mansion, you consider an ordinary library better than the others?" frowned Selina in an unimpressed tone._

_"Believe me," grinned Bruce, making a few steps to the piano. "There's more to it than it meets the eye. Watch."_

_Selina looked on curiously, as Bruce moved his hand to the keys of the expensive instrument. His fingers lightly pressed a few keys to make an off-key note, then another higher. After the third out of tune chord, the bookshelf shuddered and opened sideways like it was a door, revealing what appears to be a staircase leading underground._

_Selina's jaw nearly dropped at what transpired. Her eyes glued to open bookshelf, imaging where it would lead her to. Bruce took her hand and guided her through the frame to go smoothly down the stairs. The stairs were grey and rocky to match the walls next to them. Selina couldn't tell, but either her eyes were playing tricks on her, or the narrow corridor looked like it was getting darker with each step downwards._

_When they finally reach the bottom, Bruce felt Selina's grip on his getting tighter, he let out a wide smile at seeing his new girlfriend looking up to see the Batcave in all its glory._

_"Woah..." breathed Selina, her green eyes widen at the magnificent place._

_The underground cave was exactly as it says on the tin. It was dark, dank and barley have any form of light, save the glow that was illuminating from platforms and ramp ways. What she saw next, had made her held her breath in her throat._

_There was a high-tech computer with a console in front of it, and Selina would guess, all the stuff was classified information, same goes for the gadgetry and weapons that were lying about on the working table with lights shining it above. There was a box-like room that contained the Batsuits._

_"So that's how he kept replacing them..." thought the feline blonde, her mind briefly shifted to her sexual encounters with Bruce with a smirk._

_And over to the centre, stood the wreckage of the Batmobile. Selina sighed at the state of it, not surprised the Penguin did a number on it two nights before. She heard reports of the incident that Batman had ruthlessly tried to kill the Gothamites and caused all kinds of mayhem all over the streets, but she knew it wasn't the case. It was all the Penguin's dastardly scheme to make Gotham turn their backs on their protector._

_Thankfully, the Ice Princess said otherwise, when she revealed who was actually behind her kidnapping, along with all the evidence that Shreck had left down at the Penguin's lair._

_Bruce's smile never left his face, watching his new girlfriend's reaction._

_"Selina Kyle, welcome to the Batcave." he introduced politely._

_Selina gently placed her hand on the working table to calm herself from getting overwhelmed by this._

_"I think I need to sit down..." she whispered astonishingly before she planted her rear to the nearest chair._

_"Take a few deep breaths," advised Bruce._

_Selina shifted to get herself comfortable in her chair, relieved that she found herself a chair to calm her nerves because if she didn't she probably would've fainted right in front of Bruce._

_The blonde placed her hand on her chest, in an attempt to control her heartbeat. All this stuff he kept down here. All those fancy high-tech he had, from the suits, computers, the gadgets and the Batmobile. All this time when she first visited Wayne Manor for her date with Bruce, and she hadn't the faintest idea that her new boyfriend had an underground cave as his base of operations beneath her feet, being completely oblivious to all this. She was having trouble wrapping her head around all this, This place was just amazing! Damp and a little cold, but amazing!_

_"Okay!" said Selina finally, opening her hands in front of her like a form of surrender. "Time out here! Oh god, this is overwhelming..."_

_Bruce kneeled in front of her to put her hands on hers, and placed them on her lap, making her look into his steel-blue eyes._

_"A little too much to take, Selina?" grinned Bruce playfully._

_She chuckled at his silly question._

_"Yes, maybe a little," Selina admitted, couldn't help but grin back at him, before getting her heartrate in control before eyeing the gadgets on the work table next to her._

_"So this is where you keep all your fancy toys and tricks, huh?" she grinned._

_"I wouldn't say they're mere toys, Selina," joked Bruce, getting to his feet to pick up a fresh Batarang."A lot of money went down to make these gadgets to further assist me in fighting crime. In fact, they were all invented and manufactured in secret by Wayne Enterprises."_

_"Can't I get one of my own somewhere down the road?" asked Selina, loving the idea of having more than just a whip and a tazer in her arsenal._

_"See if I can get a hold of Lucius about that after the New Year," he concluded, handing the metal to Selina._

_"Noted." she finished, nodding at him._

_She looked down at the fancy gadget, funnily enough, shaped like a bat, with a mix of determination and excitement. She looked at it long and hard before making the final decision._

_"Well, Bruce," thought Selina, smiling widely. "Looks like that Batman has got himself a new partner in Catwoman..."_

* * *

Bruce smiled fondly at the memory before he shook his head out of his daydream to concentrate on his driving.

The meeting he had earlier on had been the main reason he didn't join Selina in taking down the robbers tonight at the Gotham Jewellery store, which he had heard on the news that she had done another outstanding job on her own. A part of him was hoping that she'll be home in time, as there was something in mind for when he'll see her.

He turned his Jag to the right, over at the distance, stood his stately home of Wayne Manor. The double gates opened to let the approaching vehicle in the courtyard, driving around the fountain until he pulled to a stop in front of the mansion. He climbed out of his car, making his way to the front entrance.

Bruce opened the double doors to let himself in the main hall, and resting on the window sill to the left in her warm, cosy pillow, was Selina's beloved cat, Miss Kitty. Then, Alfred strolled in through the living area to greet his young master.

"Hey Alfred," greeted Bruce with a grin. "Did you see the news about the foiled robbery?

"That I have indeed," replied Alfred, smiling back. "Miss Kyle has done a tremendous job in capturing the robbers. Speaking of Miss Kyle, sir, she told me to inform you that she's down at the cave to conduct some business with you. She arrived back 10 minutes before you did."

Bruce wasn't surprised to hear that Selina had beaten ahead of him. He couldn't help feel a certain feeling swirling around his stomach at what his girlfriend of two years had planned down at the cave. Between Bruce and Selina, it was a tradition for whenever they succeed in their patrols, or when they were at the meetings at Wayne Enterprises to discuss the increasing stock, one moment to another always leads to them celebrating to a very interesting way.

"I'll head over there to congratulate her on a job well done," stated Bruce.

"Then I'll leave the two of you for the night," said Alfred, knowing the real meaning behind his young master's words. "Good night, sir."

"Good night, Alfred." replyed Bruce, watching his old friend resuming his final tasks before retiring for the night.

He went over to the left side of the stairs to a narrow room of shelves, displaying ornaments, silver cutlery and metal pottery. He reached out to the bottom of the top shelf to press a hidden button, which slid open sideways for Bruce to walk through to the Batcave.

During the last two years, the Batcave underwent a couple of drastic changes since Selina had moved in with Bruce. The Batcomputer was now heavily advanced with up-to-date technology he bought from Wayne Enterprises, and it had plenty of modifications from Lucius Fox, and the screen even had a double slide Bat symbol to cover it when it was turned off.

Next to the screen, stood an industrialized wardrobe containing the Batsuits, Catsuits, and all kinds of high advanced gadgets when suitable for mission and various situations when needed.

Bruce had retooled the Batmobile considerably. Not only had he redesigned the chassis to make it more aerodynamic, but he had built in several new computer overrides and newly advanced fail-safes so no outside interference from anyone hacking or tampering the vehicle's security. He also took extra precautions with the vehicle after what the Penguin and Red Triangle Circus Gang had done to it during the night they framed him for the Ice Princess' kidnapping.

Bruce shuddered at the memory of the incident. He remembered what he had to go through, being at the eye of the storm that was the demolition derby from hell. He recalled the conversation Selina had with him about how the Circus Gang had infiltrated Wayne Enterprises to get a hold of the Batmobile plans, and therefore planting an antenna underneath the car so the Penguin would use it by remote control. To this day, neither Bruce nor Selina still had any idea as to how the Penguin got hold of the plans and blueprints from under his nose, and it was one of those things that they will probably never know.

Bruce made his way down the rocky stairs to the looming underground cave, and he stopped as soon as he got to the very bottom was the sight that he wanted to see all night long.

There was Selina, sitting in front of the Batcomputer, very casually resting her feet on the console with her red-painted lips curled up into a mischievous, naughty smirk on her face, and her bright green eyes staring right at him. She was still dressed in her Catwoman garb, lacking the gloves and mask, her blonde hair tied in a curly ponytail, which made her beauty stand out more in Bruce's opinion. She was getting more beautiful every day and he couldn't be more thankful.

"I see you got Alfred's message, Bruce," grinned Selina in a not-so-innocent tone.

"Yes, I did, Selina" replied the young millionaire. "He told me that I have some business to take care of down here."

Selina shifted feet off the console to get herself up from the chair to glide her way to Bruce, swaying her luscious hips with each step she took, making sure her knight in black armour has his full attention on her, which never fails.

"Well, he's right on one thing," said Selina playfully, her green eyes shining with life behind them. "And what's business without adding some pleasure..."

Bruce caught on with her flirting, knowing what she had planned. He was trapped under her spell that she cheekily called it whenever they make love. Selina closed their space between them to wrap her arms around his neck to plant her lips for a kiss, which he kissed her back with the same, equal passion. He automatically placed her palms on her latex covered ass, which she moaned in response. She swiftly wrapped her fingers around his tie, slowly untying it from the collar of his button shirt.

"Selina..." groaned Bruce.

"I'll never get tired of your treatment of my ass..." sighed the blonde feline. "Next thing you know, I'll find myself bending over for you to spank it..."

"That can be arranged, Miss Kyle..." whispered Bruce in her ear, diving down for her neck.

"Mmmm, looking forward to it," moaned Selina, her body trembled with lust uncontrollably. "Now, let's continue our celebration somewhere more cosy, shall we, Brucie?"

"With pleasure..." sighed Bruce, cocking her leg around his waist.

Selina responded by jumping off to wrap her arms and legs around Bruce's form. He held onto her buttocks as he took them both to exit the Batcave and all the way up to their bedroom before locking the door behind them to lose themselves in their love-making.

* * *

The crack of lightning momentarily drowned out the screams from within Arkham Asylum. But barely had the thunder rumbled away before the shrieks could be heard once more, unabated.

Arkham had a long and impressive history, dating back to the 1920s. Of course, so did war, pestilence, famine, and death. The mere existence of that tradition was not enough to instill confidence.

Arkham, named after its founder, Amadeus Arkham, was a dark and terrifying place. It had not always been that way. Once, in the dim past, it had merely been a dark and fearsome place. Time had a way of taking the various psychoses and illnesses that infested the human mind and upping the stakes.

To the normal asylums and institutions were consigned those who were merely a danger to themselves. To the abnormal asylums and institutions went those who were a danger to themselves and to society.

It was said that Arkham got those who were a danger to God.

This was an exaggeration, of course.

But not by much.

Arkham sat behind a massive fence with the Asylum's name etched in great twisted metal letters over the gate. The building itself didn't sit on the hill so much as squat there, like a great spider positioned and waiting for prey. The storm that had been threatening the area for some days had finally arrived, and it seemed as if it had settled directly over the gothically styled building. This wasn't unusual. Arkham always appeared to be a sort of lightning rod for every disruption and abomination that nature could possibly conceive of hurling at humanity.

The building was filled with people who were desperate, on edge, over the edge.

And that was just the staff...

The orderly's name was Richter, and Richter was in deep, deep trouble.

He slowly pushed along a cleanup cart, looking nervously right and left. His bald head was thick with sweat. His legs felt rubbery, and he was leaning on the cart as much to stand as to push the cart along.

Despite the thunder and lightning, the screams and the flickering lights, the overall stench of disinfectant and fear... despite all that, Richter's mind was nevertheless on anything but his job. He was dwelling on the people to whom he owed money. A lot of money. More money than he would see this month, or even this year.

If only the damned horse had paid off. It should have. Why should Richter be held responsible for the stupid horse's leg-breaking in the middle of the race? It wasn't fair...

And then there was that lousy run of luck at the card game. How could he have been expected to know that the other guy could beat an ace-high straight? It wasn't his fault...

And that night playing craps, he'd been on a roll. The money had been flowing and he'd had a hot hand, that rare feeling when you touch the dice and they're yours to command. By all rights, he should have been able to recoup all his losses and more, pay off the loan sharks, buy the wife that coat she'd been wanting, maybe even get enough in the bank that he could quit and survive for a year or more while looking for a good job, a decent job.

He couldn't have known that the hot hand would evaporate, just like that, leaving him cold bones and even deeper in debt. How could he have anticipated it? Just like that, just like that. It wasn't his fault.

He rolled past the guard at the maximum-security point, the wheels on the cart squeaking. The guard, whose name was Irvin, nodded slightly. Richter returned the nod and continued on his way.

He went past cell after cell. He was no longer looking around. Instead, his focus was utterly on the door that was up and to the right.

Room 22.

He stopped there, waiting for someone to say, "Hey! What're you doing!" But no one did. He drummed his fingers for a moment on the cart.

Next to the door was a keypad. The combinations were changed electronically and automatically every day. But Richter had managed to sneak into the head office and pick up that day's combo. He punched in the numbers and heard a soft click. The electronic lock had unlatched. He took a deep breath, and then eased the door open, pulling the cart in behind him.

There was a single stream of light in the cell, coming from a barred window overhead—nowhere near enough to illuminate the entire cell, even as small as it was. Nevertheless, the single occupant of the cell was partly visible. His legs were casually crossed, and Richter could hear something whirring through the air rhythmically. Something small and metallic tossed in the air and then landing in the occupant's hand.

"M- Mister Dent," called out Richter. "I'm... it's me. Richter."

"We know it's you," came the voice of the man Richter called Dent. He was only distantly related to the Harvey Dent who had met with Batman on the rooftops all that time ago; nominally, they shared a body. But that was all. The mind was something else again.

"I brought what you asked for," he stopped and fidgeted. "You probably want to see it, don't you?"

No sound, save for that up and down of the metallic object.

Richter reached down into the cleaning cart, to the hidden compartment he'd rigged up. He pulled out a pair of goggles and an acetylene torch. "Cut through the bars in no time."

"Put them down where we can see them," said Dent.

Richter stepped forward and did so. Then he paused and said, "You, you remember the deal."

"We remember it."

"The money, the money you promised me... Half a million, if I helped you escape... You... You do have the money?"

There was a two-second silence.

"You read the newspaper stories, just like everyone else," came Dent's voice. "You know we have two million stashed away. Half a mill of it is yours... unless, of course..."

"Unless what?"

Another two-second pause, and then something was thrust into the light.

It was a coin. It was a special commemorative coin, issued to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Lady Gotham, a statue situated in Gotham Harbor. Lady Gotham was depicted in profile on both sides. The coin gleamed in the shaft of light and then, with remarkable dexterity, he turned the coin to reveal the other side. Richter then saw that, whereas Lady Gotham had been pristine on one side, on this other side her head had been disfigured, slashes made through it.

"Would you be interested in, double or nothing?" came Dent's calm voice. "A flip of the coin decides."

"No," came Richter's immediate answer. "Are you insane? I'm risking my career, my freedom, violating trust, breaking the law, and you're asking if I want to chance winding up having nothing to show for it except an empty cell, a mountain of debts, and some guys who would rip my insides out just for kicks, much less for the amount of money I owe them?"

All of that very correct, very understandable response, rattled around in his head. But during that time, the twinkle of the coin sparkled in his eyes.

A million bucks...

It's crazy.

But a million bucks...

You've been hanging around in this nuthouse too long.

The gambling instincts pounded through him, thudded in his temples until it was all he could hear. A half a million dollars would put him in the clear, sure, but a million, he'd be set for life... forever. Not only could he clear off his debts, but then he and the wife could blow town, go to some small island in the Bahamas or something, live like a king and queen on what was leftover.

For years, for so many years, she'd considered him a loser, a nowhere bum with a dream but no drive. Wouldn't the expression on her face be worth the risk?

Hell, for that matter. The Bahamas beckoned him, and she didn't necessarily have to be part of the Hell, for that matter... the Bahamas beckoned him, and she didn't necessarily have to be part of the equation. Wouldn't that be worth the risk?

The night erupted in light and sound, and the coin looked like a hellish ember.

"Well?" said Dent. "Decision time, Richter. Time is money."

"All right, you're on."

Barely were the words out of his mouth before the coin was airborne, flashing in the light. "Call it," said Dent.

He thought of the grotesque, scarred head. "Clean side," he decided.

The coin seemed to hang in midair, alternatingly beautiful and frightening. Then it spiralled to the floor and landed. It spun for a moment. Richter stepped closer to see for himself what the result was.

It hesitated, carried by its momentum, and then settled. Richter stared down at it.

Scarred side up.

"Too bad," said Dent.

There was a sudden, swift movement that Richter barely even had time to register. Then he felt a sharp pinch at his throat, and a warmth trickling down it. Automatically he put his hand to the source of the warmth and came away with a hand-coated with his own blood.

"Would you like your palm read?" asked Dent. "Oh, too late. It's red already."

Richter went to his knees. His already-blurring eyes managed to make out what Dent was now holding in his other hand: A double-edged razor blade. His mouth moved, forming the word, "Why?" but his vocal cords were traumatized and he couldn't produce the sound.

Nevertheless, Dent was able to make it out.

"Why?" he said, sounding genuinely puzzled. "You're asking why? But, isn't that obvious? It was double or nothing. Nothing means no money, no life, nothing. Null. Void. Two times zero is zero."

Richter's final thought was, I... I didn't know... it's not my fault... it's not fair... and then he crashed to the floor, the last sound he would ever be responsible for making.

Without bothering to glance at him, Dent, still hidden by shadows, stepped over him and picked up the acetylene torch. As he placed the goggles over his face and fired up the torch, he said to the man who could no longer hear him, "This has been a productive evening, Richter. Thanks to you, we not only escape, but we save half a million dollars. We're doubly grateful."

He fired up the torch, pushing back the darkness.

The right side of his face was much as it had been back when he had his meeting with Batman and Catwoman.

The left side of his face looked like a relief map of purgatory... Except, in this purgatory, there would never be any redemption or forgiveness.

There would just be more, and greater, insanity.

* * *

Dr. Burton, the chief psychiatrist of Arkham Asylum, was not particularly looking forward to this session. Meetings with Harvey Dent were not only an exercise in futility but self-control as well. Staring into that face. God, that face... was a test of Burton's ability to maintain his own grip on sanity.

He walked the old hallway, glancing around and making mental note of places where plaster was falling, where cracks were forming. They needed money to maintain the place, but the city budget was cut to the bone and it was difficult to get private donations. Arkham Asylum wasn't one of the "sexier" places where people could contribute.

He stopped at the entrance to the maximum-security wing and flashed a high sign to Irvin. The guard returned the gesture and then was almost deafened by a thunderclap overhead. Dr. Burton was somewhat less thrown. He, instead, was counting, as he had been much of the night. The rain had concentrated on Arkham, but the lightning had still been some distance away. Just like his father had taught him when he was little, Burton had been counting off the seconds between the flash of light and the thunder.

It had drawn closer and closer, the count going from ten to five in a dazzlingly short period of time.

"Hell of a night, huh, Doc?"

Burton chucked a thumb and said, "Hell's in here."

Irvin nodded in silent agreement. "Want backup, Doc?"

Burton considered it a moment. Then he nodded. Irvin promptly informed the central guard post, via his walkie-talkie, that he was accompanying Burton. Within twenty seconds a replacement would be there, the exit covered. Irvin's full concentration would be on making sure that Harvey Dent didn't try any funny stuff.

Burton approached Dent's cell, which was securely closed, as always. He punched in the release code and then gently pushed the door open.

"Mr. Dent..." he called, feeling some degree of comfort about Irvin's presence directly behind him.

He saw Dent's shadowed form seated in a chair. He garnered some relief from that. If Dent was visible, it meant he couldn't spring out from hiding.

"Counselor..."

No answer. Burton was now completely in the cell, and he stepped toward the unmoving figure, cautious and even a little worried. "Harvey..."

Lightning flashed as the body slumped over. It was Richter. The front of his uniform was covered with dried blood.

As if on cue, the inmates in surrounding cells began shrieking. A hideous cacophony of laughter, howling, and demented cackling filled the air.

Irvin was already on the walkie-talkie, but Burton didn't hear his voice. Instead, he looked up... up to the grating that had been burned through, iron supports twisted and open.

Lightning came and, reflexively, Burton counted in his head. The thunder rumbled two seconds later, and from the fading light, Burton was able to see something scrawled on the wall. Then it vanished. He moved toward it, his mind still numb.

Lightning and thunder crashed together, and there were the words in blood, Richter's blood, etched on the wall.

**THE BAT AND THE CAT MUST DIE**

This time, when the inmates screamed, Burton's voice was raised in chorus with them.

**A/N: In** **response to the recent news, we like to dedicate this chapter to Batman Forever director Joel Schumacher, who passed away at 80 from cancer. We like to send our condolences to his friends and family during this heartbreaking and difficult time.**

**RIP Joel Schumacher.**   
**29 August 1939-22 June 2020.**


	2. Mid-Air Showdown, The Enigmatic One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Batman (C) DC Comics
> 
> Batman Forever (C) Warner Bros.
> 
> Co-written with neostardustdragon101

The news of Harvey's escape from Arkham had reached Bruce and Selina the next night, and before either of them acknowledged the fact, there had been a report of an incident that took place at the Second National Bank of Gotham. With a knowing nod, they head straight for the cave even before the GCPD illuminated the Batsignal into the sky.

There was nothing Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle can do, but Batman and Catwoman on the other hand was a different matter.

The couple went to the vault to change into their alter-egos. It wasn't long before Bruce had got changed into one of the Batsuits, making his way to the sections where he stored his gadgets as he zipped up the gauntlets and clipped the Utility Belt on. He picked out a couple of Batarangs, grappling guns, a zip-liner, and even a laser cutter.

Selina slipped into the tight, black latex, before putting on the cat-themed cowl over her head, her Catwoman persona emerging from the surface. She picked out her choice of gadgets that she might need for when she and Batman face the usual obstacles. She wrapped her trusty bullwhip around her frame nice and tight, before placing her new items that weren't added to her arsenal when she started it out. A couple of smoke bombs, a few knock pallets, and a pair of taser gloves that Lucius took apart the one she stole from one of the Penguin's goons that held her hostage and placed the circuitry and mechanisms into those gloves. Selina couldn't be more pleased with the final result after testing.

Batman emerged from the vault, his long black cape sweeping around him, his gauntleted arms folded across his sculpted chest. His eyes glimmered from beneath his cowl. Catwoman swayed next to him, placing her hand on her hip, and let out a confident, sideway smirk on her red-painted lips.

Alfred was waiting patiently nearby the Batcomputer to see the costumed couple leave the vault to watch the slowly rotating 360° turntable that held the newly upgraded Batmobile. They stood firmly still on their spots until the turntable came to a complete stop.

Batman was the first to step forward to open the car's hatch to climb behind the wheel.

"Can I persuade you to bring a ham sandwich with you?" suggested Alfred.

"We'll get drive-thru, Alfred." grinned Catwoman cheekily, then followed behind to take the passenger's side of the vehicle.

As soon as the hatch closed, the Batmobile's engine roared to life. With a glow that seemed to emanate from somewhere in the bowels of hell, the Batmobile roared forward. It moved quickly through a series of underground arches, picking up speed. The onboard surveillance systems confirmed that there were no other vehicles in the area, which made sense; Wayne Manor was somewhat isolated, and casual visitors were a rarity.

Moments later, the Batmobile whipped through a holograph of trees that masked the entrance of the Batcave. It screeched out onto the forest road, fallen leaves and dead branches whipping around as the powerful vehicle blew past.

* * *

The guard's name was Tully.

Once he'd been a cop. He'd walked the streets of Gotham City for 27 years. Spent his entire life as a beat cop. Been shot twice, including one time that had put him on a respirator for a week. Won three meritorious service medals and a commendation. He'd never married, never had kids, and devoted his entire life to the force.

And after those glorious 27 years, his medals and commendations were collecting dust on a shelf at home, and his pension wasn't even beginning to cover his simple, meager living expenses. So he'd taken a job at the Second National Bank of Gotham as a security guard.

They'd assigned him to the twenty-second floor of the bank's office building, guarding the company vault containing billions in negotiable bonds, stocks, and other assets of high-powered corporations. Appropriately, it was his second night on the job when he'd found himself in more trouble than he could ever recall being in during his entire tenure as a cop.

Tully was tied up on the ground, bound at his wrists and ankles. Standing around him were six thugs of varying sizes and shapes, but all of one consistent personality type: nasty. Tully was trying not to look at them, for fear was bubbling furiously inside him and he hated the way it made him feel. Instead, he was staring out the window at the great signal hanging in the sky. A bat illuminated against a low-hanging cloud.

And then the signal was blocked out by the twirling disk of a gleaming silver coin. It passed the signal by and then descended. A hand speared out and snagged it easily.

A man stepped into view. He was standing in profile, looking off to the right. He was rakishly handsome, at least on his good side.

Harvey Dent, former district attorney, once named as Gotham's White Knight, had lived a life that consisted of hardship.

Once upon a time, Harvey was nicknamed "Apollo" by the media due to the fact that he was charming, good-looking, and seemingly untouchable. He was dedicated to his job of upholding law and order and became one of the first supporters, allies, and even friends of Batman and Catwoman.

That all changed on the day of Sal Maroni's trial.

It was thoroughly planned and well thought out, and all the time the people of Gotham were waiting for the day of the trail to come, it was all well-timed for the mob boss to strike him down. Maroni retrieved a hidden flask of acid and threw it right onto Dent's face. Batman and Catwoman became aware of the plot, and ran through the courtroom to save Dent, but arrived too late. The acid splashed against the left side of Dent's face, horribly disfigured it, while the right side was protected by his notepad.

The acid burned far enough through Harvey's head, that part of his brain was damaged and made him psychotic and homicidal. As a child, long before he became a criminal, a second personality was created within the former district attorney, which he dubbed, 'Big Bad Harv'. As a result, the trauma was powerful enough to force two of his personalities to be mixed up and left Harvey in a state where right and wrong no longer held any meaning.

After Harvey's horrific scarring, he became Two-Face, a name that was given to him by GCPD officers, along with several corrupt courthouse officials when he was in the Internal Affairs Division. He soon began his own crusade to bring Maroni down, and even succeeded in killing him in cold blood, much to Batman and Catwoman's dismay. Dent was eventually arrested and committed to Arkham Asylum.

But Harvey was just a name, he'd decided some time back, that only put one side of him on display. That was no longer sufficient. He had needed a moniker that captured his duality so that when people were dealing with him, they'd know all aspects of the man they were doing business with.

The name had somehow come naturally to him.

"Counting on the winged avenger to deliver you from evil, old chum?" asked Two-Face, clutching his coin more tightly. "We most certainly are."

Regrets poured through Tully's mind. All of them centered around the notion that if only he'd encountered Two-Face when he was young. If only he'd been facing the six thugs when he was young. All of it when he was young, instead of a scared old man with a lousy pension and a hearing aid which, at the moment, he would have given anything to be able to turn off.

"Are you gonna kill me?" he asked with a trace of fear in his voice.

Two-Face didn't seem to hear the question at first. He simply continued to stare out into space. But then, quick as a cobra, he was squatting next to the guard. He held the silver dollar under Tully's nose. The clean side winked at him.

"Maybe," grinned Two-Face sadistically. "Maybe not. You could say we're of two minds on the matter. Are you a gambling man? Suppose we flip for it?"

Tully said nothing. It didn't matter. Two-Face was no longer listening.

"One man is born a hero," murmured Two-Face softly to himself. "His brother a coward. Babies starve, politicians grow fat. Holy men are martyred, and junkies grow legion. Why? Why, why, why, why, why? Luck! Blind, stupid, simple, doo-dah, clueless luck! The random toss of the great celestial coin is the only true justice. Triumph or tragedy, joy or sorrow, life or, dare I say..." He turned the coin over, and there was the scarred face of the coin. "...death."

Two-Face looked to the left and the guard tried not to look away. He didn't succeed.

"Death," he repeated, and he flipped the coin.

It twirled in the air and landed directly in front of the guard's face. Tully didn't see what side came up and, to prolong the agony, Two-Face brought his foot down quickly on top of it. He winked down at the sweating guard as if they were old buddies sharing a few laughs over a harmless game.

"What greater thrill? What greater agony? Like the touch of God." He put up a finger, waggling it slightly. "Wait. Wait. Wait. How will justice be served?"

He removed his foot from the coin and the guard forced himself to look at it.

The unblemished head looked back at him.

"Fortune smiles upon you, my friend," Two-Face said gently. "Another day of wine and roses, or in your case, beer and pizza."

The guard sobbed with relief and hated himself all the more for the weakness.

Two-Face snapped his fingers, twice. The thugs converged on the guard. One lifted him up by his bound arms, another by his legs.

"I thought you said you'd let me live!" whined Tully.

"Too true. And so you shall. Nothing better than live bait to trap a bat and a cat." Two-Face smiled maniacally, nodding to the two guards, who carried Tully away to fulfill his function in the former district attorney's scheme.

One of the thugs stepped forward and said with just a hint of annoyance, "Too many witnesses. We shoulda just killed him..."

Two-Face appeared to give the matter a moment's thought, and then he flipped the coin. This time he didn't let it fall, but snatched it out of the air and slapped it onto the back of his hand.

The scarred side was visible.

Before the thug even had time to register the significance of the decision, Two-Face roared. His hand shot out, pinning the thug's throat to the wall.

"You stinking piece of virus-breeding rat droppings," Two-Face snarled, shoving his face into the thug's. "Did you question our coin?"

"Boss..." choked the thug. "You're... you're hurting me." he managed to get out.

"Oh, _are_ we?" Two-Face thrust his face even closer, and the petrified thug felt his foul breath blowing at him. "Look at this face. Look closer! Do you think there's anything on earth we don't know about pain?"

And then he started slapping the thug across the face, each smack punctuating the next four words: "Never. Argue. With. Us! You got it?" he bellowed.

He released his grip on the thug, who promptly sank to the floor.

"Anything you say, boss..." he managed to get out between bleeding lips.

Two-Face nodded approvingly. "Exactly. Excellent response."

He walked away from the thug and stepped over toward the window, taking care not to present a target. Far below him, in the heart of Pan-Asia town, he could see the SWAT teams and police wagons, the spotlights that had been set up, everyone scurrying around as if any of their activities had the slightest meaning or importance to him.

All of it was irrelevant.

Only one being had anything to do with anything and anything to do with him.

"You're all little bugs," he murmured. "We are waiting . . . for the big bug."

* * *

Outside the bank, there were dozens of witnesses who look to see what was happening on the upper floor where Two-Face were holding the last hostage. Police helicopters were hovering around with spotlight shining on the specific floor where the robbery took place.

A few yards away from the main entrance surrounded by police barriers await upon Batman and Catwoman's arrival, Commissioner Gordon was in the middle of a discussion with a smartly dressed young woman. Blonde, blue eyes, 5'9, late 20s, and she had that professional aura radiating from her.

Doctor Chase Meridian firmly believed that all the stories about how dangerous Gotham City was were just that: stories. This wasn't the Wild West, after all, a place where rules were bent, broken, and tossed out the window, where anyone could do whatever they wanted, and all citizens were on their own.

She had moved to Gotham roughly about a year ago, and living in New York was becoming, in her honest opinion, very boring and dull. She was the one the city's psychologist, a very successful one after she graduated from New York University a few years ago. The job did her favours, it paid her good money, but she was growing bored with the place. She saved up a lot to move to Gotham not only for a chance of scenery, not only as the GCPD's consultant, as well as being a local psychologist, but to meet the duo of Batman & Catwoman.

"How do you know they'll be here?" asked Chase.

Commissioner James Gordon, wishing like hell that his bad heart hadn't forced him to give up smoking, chewed on a breadstick as he surveyed the heavens. The Bat-Signal continued, unblinking.

"They will be." was his reply.

"You don't know for sure," pressed the blonde psychologist. "They could be out of town, or sick. They could be dead. The man and woman behind those masks might have suffered a nice, simple embolism and be lying on a slab somewhere with tags on their toes. Being bigger than life doesn't guarantee a spectacular or heroic death. Look at Lawrence of Arabia."

"I don't get out to movies much," replied Gordon. He swiveled his gaze towards her. "Is there some point to this, Doctor?"

"I'm wondering why you have such unflappable confidence in them? Is it the cape? The mask? That emblem? Even the whip?"

"I don't appreciate the condescension, Doctor."

"My apologies," she said.

"You want to know why I have confidence in them?"

"Yes."

"That's why," he said, pointed towards the Bat-Signal, which was suddenly blocked out by two figures.

Batman gliding down with his extending cape towards the ground, with Catwoman swinging with her bullwhip behind him. They dropped down in front of Chase, face-to-face with her.

The meeting had been a long time coming for her. She had built up a variety of no-nonsense, or various businesslike introductions to make.

"Hot entrance!" she heard a voice that sounded remarkably like her own and, even more astonishingly, passing through her lips.

" _Oh my god!_ " thought Chase, mentally kicking herself at the comment she just said." _Did I really just say that!?_ "

Catwoman frowned at the doctor's first impression of her boyfriend. She couldn't help but notice right away that Chase was becoming smitten very quickly with him, and she had seen that from women many times since she became Batman's partner-in-crime.

For his part, Batman seemed to have lost interest in her. Actually, that might not have been the case; it was entirely possible that he hadn't any interest in her in the first place, especially when there's a certain feline next to him. He turned his head to the right to notice the annoyed look on Catwoman's masked features. Deciding to leave it for now, all business, he turned to the left to Gordon.

"Two-Face?" asked Batman, straight to the point.

Gordon nodded. "Two guards down, he's holding the third hostage. Didn't see this one coming."

"We should have, though," said Chase, trying to insert herself back into the conversation. "The Second Bank of Gotham."

"On the first-year anniversary of the day we captured him," said Catwoman too quickly. It was hard to tell whether she'd figured it out on the way over or had just realized it now.

Chase had never had any sort of lengthy intercourse with people behind in masks unless one counted that time she'd spent two weeks at hockey training camp dealing with a suicidal goalie. It was disconcerting. All the little things she sought to help her "read" people were utterly absent. It was like staring into a black hole. She pushed gamely forward.

"How could Two-Face resist?" she prompted, outstretching her hand. "I'm Chase Meridian," she introduced.

Batman didn't shake her outstretched hand, neither did Catwoman, who remained tight-lipped. Neither still didn't. Instead, Catwoman was merely staring at her with an instinctive feeling of jealousy in her guts, as if she were some new strain of bacteria, or perhaps a rare animal who'd popped up at a zoo one day.

Cats don't like their turf being invaded, and this Chase person happened to find herself in Catwoman's turf, and she doesn't like it one bit.

Gordon piped up, sounding slightly regretful, "I asked Dr. Meridian to consult on this case. She specializes in..."

"...multiple personalities," Batman interrupted. "Abnormal psychology. I read your work. Insightful." He paused, then added, "Naïve, but insightful."

"I'm flattered," remarked Chase, transfixed at his intelligence. "Not every girl makes a super hero's night table."

Dr. Meridian was the expert, but for all Gordon knew, Batman and Catwoman had similar credentials in civilian life. So Gordon addressed the question to both of them: "Can we reason with him? There are innocent people in there."

Chase shook her head. "Won't do any good. He'll slaughter them without thinking twice."

She didn't seem to be aware of the irony of her comment about "thinking twice."

If Batman or Catwoman noticed it, they chose not to say anything.

"Agreed," said Batman. "A trauma powerful enough to create an alternate personality leaves the victim..."

"...in a world where normal rules of right and wrong no longer apply," Chase picked up.

"Exactly," agreed Batman.

"Like you."

She inclined her head slightly at the correction. "I didn't know that. See? You are interesting. And call me Chase."

Catwoman, feeling threatened over the whole exchange has had enough. She stomped forward in front of Chase with gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, her back facing Batman. If some blonde floozy thinks she was gonna claw her way to her man and outright flirt with him right in front of her no less, she had another thing coming to her.

"Yes, he is interesting, _Chase_ ," sneered Catwoman sarcastically, holding her arm out in front of the Dark Knight almost possessively. "It actually would help if you just keep yourself to yourself and go charm your way to some nearest poor sap!"

This only made Chase curl her lips into a sly grin at the feline's overprotectiveness. She had checked Catwoman's background at the GCPD archives and found herself very fascinated at what she discovered. She heard rumours going on about the shenanigans, sexual shenanigans that involved the costumed couple after every successful mission they did on various rooftops in the means of celebration in very interesting ways. If those rumours were true or not, Chase would like to get confirmation from them.

"I like the sassiness, Kitty Cat," grinned Chase in a husky tone. "That's so you. But nothing beats you getting all hot and bothered from wearing latex all night locking up criminals, as well as defending your man's honour."

"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded the feline.

"Well, I thought it would help if I would be on top of you, or would you rather have me underneath you when you're done for the night. I'm game." finished the blonde psychologist with a flirtatious wink.

Catwoman's jaw dropped at the unexpected remark towards her. Her anger faded into genuine surprise. She spluttered in response, trying to think of a few words to say, but nothing came out of her mouth. Not only was she was shocked at the fact that this newcomer in front of her had not only flirted with Batman so openly, but she had also used her charms that sent her way too! That wink that Chase gave her had sent the latex-clad woman a blushing mess.

Batman, on the other hand, remained stoic and professional. As much as he loves a good banter, especially with Catwoman, but lives were at stake here. If there were a time and the place for good flirting exchange between his girlfriend and Chase, it was neither here nor now. Gotham's need for help comes first over everything. Harvey had now become a major threat to this city, and it was his sworn duty to put a stop to it.

That was when they heard the crash. A crash that sounded as if the world were exploding, had caused both Batman and Catwoman to turn their attention from Chase, to the building where that ominous sound came from.

"By the way," said Chase, looking up to the building, still grinning. "Do you have a first name, or do I just call you Bats? And can I call you Cats as well, sweetie?"

She looked back to see their reaction, only to find an empty spot where they once stood.

She felt a strange feeling of disappointment in her stomach that her banter with the costumed couple had ended abruptly.

Chase could only hope that this meeting would be a sign of things to come.

* * *

The building shuddered under the impact, but Two-Face seemed unperturbed.

"Let's start this party with a bang!" shouted Two-Face, as if addressing an audience in an ancient coliseum.

From outside there was a grinding of motors, the whoosh of air, and this time when the wrecking ball struck the building, it didn't merely quiver. Instead, the wall exploded inward, cement and plaster raining down and the massive wreaking ball swinging to within inches of Two-Face.

He didn't even glance at it, instead sanguinely checking his watch. He frowned. Could it be that Batman and Catwoman would let him down, and not be...

From the elevators nearby there was the amazingly ordinary sound of a chime, indicating that one of the cars was heading up to the floor.

Two-Face nodded approvingly. "Punctual, even for their own funerals."

He whirled toward the elevators, his gang members leaping forward with machine guns under their arms. One of them tossed a gun to Two-Face, who caught it easily and aimed at the elevator doors. The entire maneuver, from the signal that alerted them to the clattering of machine guns, took no more than three seconds.

Two-Face chided himself, he would have far preferred it if they had trimmed it to two seconds.

Another chime went off, signaling that the cars had reached the floor.

"Blast them!" ordered Two-Face.

He and his men opened fire. Armour-piercing bullets punched through the heavy metal doors. They fired until the clips were empty, and then Two-Face put up a hand, indicating that they should move forward to see the results of their assault. They walked cautiously toward the elevators, slamming new clips into the weapons as they went.

"Open sesame," murmured Two-Face.

The doors slid open.

The shaft was empty.

Two-Face gaped in confusion. He barely had time to wonder how in God's name Batman had managed to override the controls, forcing the doors open despite the absence of the elevators themselves...

Because the next thing he knew, he saw a black sphere that was dropped onto the floor of the elevator car to release a guff of smoke with a bang. The armed thugs flinched back at the impact, and the smoke fumes had to cover them with a thick layer of smoke.

Before any of the thugs had any idea, they were under attack.

Batman swung down from the middle shaft, feet first, plowing into the thugs and sending them scattering.

Catwoman trailed behind him, sending both her booted feet to the nearest thug to knock him down flat.

He landed cleanly, his hands on his Utility Belt. He pulled two weapons, gripping one in either hand. In the right was a small projectile launcher. He squeezed the trigger and a pellet shot through the air, smacking onto the floor squarely in front of two of the thugs. When it landed it was with a soft, almost disgusting noise, like toothpaste ejected from the tube by having someone smash his fist on it. The crooks were on their feet, but, as it happened, so now were the contents of the pellet. It was a thick super adhesive. It soaked through their shoes, and into the skin of their feet. Before they even realized that their forward motion had been impeded, they'd been brought to a dead halt. They wavered and then pitched back, their arms pinwheeling but unable to stop them.

Catwoman unwrapped her whip from her petite frame, flicked her wrist to send the long leather to wrap it around one thug's neck and drag him to the wall with all her strength. She turned to her left to see two more heading her way. Time for her gymnastics to kick in. One thug charged at her with his fist drawn back, she leaped off her feet to perform a one-turn somersault before he made contact. He turned in time for her to kick him square in the chin with her hands on the floor to perform a series of cartwheels to the second guy. She landed gracefully on her feet, pulled out another black sphere, and lobbed it right at the thug's head to knock him off his feet.

In Batman's left hand, meantime, was a bola. He hurled it with a casual sidearm toss that released its whirling cable. It snaked out and wrapped itself around the upper torso of a third thug, who went down struggling and struck his head so forcefully that he knocked himself cold.

A fourth thug was charging. Batman slugged him once in the stomach, doubling him over, and then twice more in the head. Immediately the thug lapsed into unconsciousness even as a fifth charged. Gripping him firmly by the shoulders, Batman spun him around so that his flying legs crashed into the onrushing thug, sending him sprawling.

Catwoman saw another thug heading straight for her, placed her hands on the floor again to drag her whole body to plant the back of her knees to his shoulders. She shifted her whole weight to flip over the guy, who went sprawling to the floor before her boot knocked his lights out.

She got to her feet to regroup with Batman.

"What is it with goons not taking a hint that they can't win a fair fight?" questioned Catwoman. "Sounds like a typical Wednesday night for us."

Before Batman could answer, a defiant howl of rage alerted the costumed couple as another thug charged down the hall. He had two lethal spike-covered gloves, and he was barreling toward Batman and Catwoman, waving them viciously. The spikes might not have had a tremendous impact on Batman's armor, but on the other hand, one good shot to his chin might take off the lower half of his face.

Batman stood his ground, fists poised, feinting, angling for position. Catwoman did the same, springing out her sharp talons with a hiss, her hands positioning at her sides, correcting her stance.

The gloved felon came at them, lunging toward them and bolstering his own confidence with his banshee-like screams. He thrust his deadly appendages at Batman, who ducked under the charge. Overbalanced as he was, the thug wasn't able to halt his forward motion.

He tripped over Batman's crouched form, only to get scratched in the face by Catwoman, and received a painful electric shock from her tazer gloves that had him fall down flat on his face.

Batman turned just in time to see Two-Face disappearing down a hallway. Without hesitation, he and Catwoman gave chase.

They found themselves in a room with a sizable vault. Two-Face was nowhere to be seen, but they heard frantic noises coming from inside the giant, safe-like room.

Inside, there was Tully, rocking back and forth in hopes of somehow tipping the chair over, perhaps breaking it, and in that way managing to free his bound arms and legs. His gagged mouth was aching from the tape that was across it. He made frantic noises in his throat, trying in some way to warn them off.

Batman and Catwoman stepped into the narrow entranceway to the vault. He either wasn't listening or simply didn't understand. He moved quickly to Tully. Catwoman freeing his hands and tore the tape off his mouth.

"It's a trap!" warned Tully, pain roared through his face.

It was a useful, if somewhat tardy, sentence.

Before Batman or Catwoman could even turn, the safe door slammed shut.

Before the resounding clang of the heavy metal barrier had even begun to fade, the room began to shudder violently. Batman, Catwoman, and Tully were hurled to the floor as the safe jerked forward, starting to move.

"Shit!" cursed Catwoman.

There was the sound of chains outside dragging across the floor.

"We have a problem," stated Batman.

"You think?" grunted Catwoman sarcastically.

* * *

By the time Gordon's people had gotten to the huge crane that had operated the wrecking ball, all they found was an empty cab.

The monstrous machine had done its work, and the operators—more of Two-Face's people, no doubt—had fled. Gordon banged a car hood in frustration, feeling helpless.

Then he heard something. It was the unmistakable sound of whirling helicopter blades. He looked up toward the twenty-second floor and moved from helplessness to utter shock.

A Blackhawk helicopter had moved into position, a giant winch dangling beneath it. It seemed to be drawing something through the huge hole that the wrecking ball had pounded in the side of the building. After a moment, Gordon was able to make out what it was.

It was the safe from within the bank, dangling hundreds of feet above the ground and being drawn slowly up into the helicopter's cargo hold.

"That Two-Faced son of a bitch," muttered Gordon. "I just hope to God that Batman, Catwoman, and the hostage are safe."

* * *

Inside the safe, Batman was able to figure out, from the swaying of the vault and the pounding of the whirly blades outside, just exactly what the situation was.

"Why does he want to kill you?!" asked Tully apprehensively.

"We were his friends," replied Batman, scanning the interior of the vault in hopes of finding a way out.

"Do all your friends want to kill you?"

"Only the ones who get to know us," answered Catwoman.

He hadn't spotted any convenient means of exit aside from the locked door. What he had spotted, which he didn't like one bit, were small spigots on the wall. What the hell did they have to do with anything?

"Attention citizens of fair Gotham!" Once again, Two-Face's voice came through the hidden speakers. He let out another maniacal laugh.

"When we open that safe," Two-Face continued. "We'll have all we ever wanted. Enough cash to rain down upon fair Gotham, a glorious flood of chaos! That, of course, you, my boy, dead!"

On cue, there was a loud hissing sound and rising smoke. Acid, a reddish color that had long seared itself into his memory, started pouring out of them from each side of the metal draws. The purpose of the spigots, which Batman had not been able to divine, was quickly made clear.

Remembering what happened at Maroni's trial, Catwoman barely leaped up from the floor and grabbed under Tully's arms to pull him to safety. Tully's eyes widened in frantic fear at the sight of the acid that began to flood the room at an excessive rate.

"Oh no!" yelled a panicked Tully. "It's boiling acid!"

The acid wasn't strong enough to eat through steel, so the money, safely ensconced in steel drawers would be unharmed. But Batman, Catwoman, and Tully weren't in quite as fortunate a position.

"A year ago tonight," Two-Face ranted through the speakers. "You abandoned us to that madhouse! So, happy anniversary! And for your dying pleasure, we're serving the very same acid that made yours truly the men we are today!"

Ignoring Two-Face's prescription for a happy life wasn't too difficult. The acid, however, was more problematic. As the acid spread across the floor, Batman said with remarkable calm, as if he'd been in this particular jam any number of times.

Tully whimpered at the rapidly flooding acid, desperately clinging onto Catwoman for dear life. She and Batman steepled their legs, feet pressing on opposite sides of the wall in front of the safe door. It gave him some elevation, but not much. Acid started to burn at his cape.

"Gimme your hand!" lent Catwoman.

"Don't let go!" whined a whimpering Tully.

The guard, from his precarious perch, wiped the sweat from his face. He yelped when he accidentally knocked off his glasses. They fell into the rising acid and turned molten in no time.

Batman looked around, fighting down desperation, and suddenly his eyes lit on something useful.

"I need to borrow this," he said and grabbed the guard's hearing aid.

"Hey!" protested Tully, his voice going above the octave. "Hey! That's my hearing aid!"

"Thanks."

He focused his concentration, not rushing his way through the soft clicks of the tumblers. It meant that he had to ignore the acid licking at the soles of the boots.

"My shoes are melting!" yelled Tully, his feet sliding frantically from the wall.

Catwoman held onto him for dear life. She looked at the poor guy, who looked like he was about to piss himself. She looked at Batman for a split second, hoping with her fingers crossed that he'll open the damn door before the acid dissolve them into nothing.

" _Hurry, Bruce!_ " yelled Catwoman internally.

The final tumbler clicked into place. Batman threw open the door, grabbed the doorjamb in one hand, the guard in the other, and swung out onto the safe's top just as the hissing acid streamed past below his feet.

The streets of Gotham City spread out far below them, and the wind was vicious as Batman saw that they were almost to the top of the bank tower with Catwoman close behind. Tully was clutching desperately onto the chains from which the safe was dangling, whimpering deep in this throat. Batman held on with one hand, looking around and assessing the situation.

Then he pulled out his wirepoon and fired it into the bank wall. The hook embedded solidly, and Batman quickly attached the trailing end of the cable to the safe with another hook, snapping it into place.

Theoretically, the tensile strength of his cable was sufficient to dangle the Batmobile off the side of the Gotham Bridge. But he'd never had to test it in that manner, and furthermore, he wasn't sure how heavy the safe was. He suspected the cable was sufficient.

He had to because he didn't have very many other options.

He palmed his Utility Belt, and a laser torch snapped into his glove. With his free hand, he reached up and grabbed the chain that was suspending the safe.

"Hang on," said Batman in his usual calm manner.

"What!?" shouted the guard.

Catwoman's eyes widen, immediately picked up what Batman was planning. Without a second's hesitation, she leaped above him to grab onto the chains.

Batman gripped the chain and, using the torch, sliced at the links just below his hand. The safe swung down and away, the cable line drawing taut.

Tully screamed all the way through the experience, screwing his eyes shut tight, holding onto the chain very tightly as he saw his life flash before his eyes.

In a perfect arc, the safe swung back through the hole from which it had emerged mere moments ago. It slid across the floor, skidding with the sound of screeching metal, and slammed into the far wall. Tully sat there for a moment, stunned and confused. And then he had the good grace and intelligence to pass out.

Then, the GCPD came storming into the room with Commissioner Gordon tolling past them to tend to Tully, who was laying passed out on the top of the safe.

"He's okay," announced Gordon to his officers. "He passed out from quite a traumatic experience with that safe. Let's get him to the hospital."

Chase ran into the room right past the GCPD to the hole in the wall to see through it that the departing helicopter was flying over the horizon, hoping that both Batman and Catwoman would make it through the night.

* * *

Batman and Catwoman, in the meantime, were clambering up the chain toward the open cargo hatch. The yank upwards had been so quick, so violent, that it had knocked the blowtorch out of his hand. But losing a weapon wasn't going to deter him. He was going to rein in Harvey Dent, and nothing was going to stop him.

From within the cockpit, Two-Face stared down in pure fury. If his gaze could burn as fiercely as the acid had, the costumed freaks would have been a blackened corpse before getting halfway up.

"This'll fix 'em!" muttered Two-Face sinisterly.

The pilot started to ask what it was that Two-Face wanted him to do, when Two-Face grabbed the controls away from him, yanked back on the throttle, and sent the chopper shooting straight up into the night sky like a rocket.

Batman held on, never losing his confidence or his nerve. He decided that he was far less of a target with all this maneuvering going on. He allowed the swinging back and forth to continue as he pulled himself up hand over hand.

Catwoman looked down to see her boyfriend holding onto that chain, teeth-gritting at the feeling of being yanked in each sharp turn the chopper made that her arms weren't ripped out right out of their joints to her surprise. She had confidence in him like he had his in her, and they will make it out of unescapable situations like they always did in the past, so why should this one be any different.

The helicopter angled toward Gotham Harbor, where a giant sign read "OCU-WASH", with a neon-lit cartoon-style eye at the top of the roof.

"Hang on, Batty!" called Two-Face, gunning the chopper's engines and angled it toward the sign.

"FAAAAAAACE!" cried out the pilot in terror.

Two-Face sent the helicopter roaring downward, the lower half and trailing chain smashing through the sign, ripping it to shreds. It had been a terrible risk; if any part of the chopper had gotten hung up on the sign, the vehicle could easily have been sent spiraling downward toward the choppy water of the harbor. But instead, under Two-Face's steady hand, the Blackhawk moved up toward the dark Gotham sky.

As if he'd totally forgotten about piloting the chopper, Two-Face moved away from the controls so that he could better see out the side. The pilot quickly grabbed control of the chopper as Two-Face made his way over to the cargo hatch.

"Let's see," murmured Two-Face, peering down at the chain and saw exactly what he thought he'd see: nothing.

"YES!" cheered Two-Face with a wide, manic smile on his scarred face. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes oh happy day!"

He leaned back to let out a triumphant, sadistic laugh at the thought of the Bat and the Cat now dead.

"Farewell forever to that pointy-eared, steroid-eating, rubber-suited, cross-dressing night rat and that annoying, latex-wearing little slut he calls a girlfriend!" laughed Two-Face.

The pilot had managed to get the chopper's engine under control when a familiar black cap covered the plexiglass.

"Face!" called the pilot. "Hey, Face!"

Two-Face spun his head to the pilot, who gestured the cape outside with his head. Knowing what that was, he let out a berserk yell. He yanked out his guns and started firing. Bullets went everywhere: through the windshield, through the cape, and, unfortunately, through the pilot. Blood spattered the inside of the windshield. Two-Face didn't care. All that mattered to him was that the cape was gone.

The pilot slumped forward on the stick, sending the chopper into a dive. Two-Face was hurled forward. He smashed into the windshield, which was already riddled with bullet holes. It cracked further under the impact and Two-Face scrambled back so that he wouldn't crash completely through it and be hurled down to the icy water below. He grabbed the pilot's corpse, wrested it from its position, and tossed it aside. Then he clambered into the vacated seat and regained control of the spiraling chopper.

That was when a fist smashed through the side window, tagging Two-Face squarely in the jaw. His head snapped back, crashing into a booted sole that kicked him right onto his temple. His head snapped again into the cushioned wall behind him with enough impact to send stars exploding between his eyes.

Before he can jump out of his seat, he found himself being pushed to the chair by Catwoman, who planted her boot on his chest and swiftly sent the tip of her boot to his chin. She went behind him to lock her arms around his head that looked like to be a chokehold.

Crouched on one of the struts on the outside of the speeding helicopter, Batman hung on.

"You need help, Harvey," said Batman with a single-minded determination. "Give it up!"

Two-Face can only look at him with a sneer crossed the distorted portion of his face.

"We need help?" questioned Two-Face somewhat mockingly. "Looked in the mirror recently?"

Suddenly he brought his feet up, slamming them squarely into Batman's face. He lost his grip, sliding and having to grab on to the lower half of the strut. Two-Face rammed the back of his head, clashing with Catwoman's temple, stunning her.

She let go of her death grip on him, shaking the cobwebs loose from the surprise attack, only then to reel forward to her knees when he rammed his fist to her stomach.

Harvey yanked himself back into the chopper and looked at the course in front of him.

There was the Lady Gotham statue, tall and proud, and recently refurbished, standing proudly in the harbor. Two-Face reached under the seat and pulled out a large iron brace that he used to lock the controls into place, fixing the helicopter on its deadly course.

Clutching onto the underside support strut, Batman hauled himself up, up once more toward the open side of the helicopter. He paused there a moment, bracing himself so that he would be able to move quickly, because sure as hell Harvey would be there waiting for him.

With a thrust of his powerful legs, he shoved himself into the cockpit.

No sign of Harvey.

What he did see were three things: the iron bar holding the chopper steady, Catwoman holding her abdomen in pain, and Harvey Dent poised over the cargo hatch. It was as if he'd been waiting for Batman to show up.

"Have the good taste to die," Two-Face requested in a rather formal tone. "See ya!" And he leaped through the cargo hatch.

Batman moved quickly to the cargo hatch and stared in stunned disbelief as Harvey Dent plummeted toward the dark water below. Then there was a sudden flurry of expanding color, caught in Lady Gotham's lighthouse beam, and a parachute opened over Two-Face. In an additional bit of whimsy, it unfolded into a giant Yin and Yang.

A shadow loomed directly in front of the copter. Lady Gotham was staring in at him.

With no way to alter the chopper's course, Batman went to Catwoman who was still woozy from Harvey's attack and was helped to her feet by her knight in black armour.

"Selina," called Batman. "We have to get out of here quick!"

"Where is he?" questioned Catwoman.

"No time to explain," he answered quickly. "The chopper is heading straight for Lady Gotham!"

"It's what!?" she shouted, his statement cleared her vision, now seeing through the plexiglass that they were indeed heading on a collision course with the statue.

Her green eyes widen in horror, realizing too late to alter course. And then there was no more time as the helicopter smashed into the left side of Lady Gotham's face. Making a split-second decision, Catwoman hurled herself out of the helicopter through the side with Batman trailing behind her as the Blackhawk erupted in a massive fireball, consuming part of the statue's visage and transforming it, in a matter of seconds, into a damaged ugly parody of itself.

Batman had just enough time to curve his body into a diving form, watching for only a second to see Catwoman diving down, and then he split the water. He had to hit it just perfectly. He wouldn't be much good to himself or anyone else with a broken back.

The costumed duo was beneath the water's surface, and to any onlooker, had there been any, it would have seemed impossible that Batman or Catwoman would be resurfacing. Considering the impact with which he'd struck the water. Considering the height he'd plunged from. And his barely conscious condition. And the cold of the water, and its choppiness. And the length of time that he was under.

Impossible.

It was a word with which Batman had only a passing acquaintance.

Catwoman was no better than Batman. If it hadn't been for the protectiveness of the latex material of her suit, she would've been in shock from the water's freezing cold temperature. Her battered, aching body had flared in protest from her fight with Harvey at the chopper. Trusting her instincts that Bruce had taught her, she held her breath and start to kick her legs to swim towards the surface, ignoring the pain.

Batman broke the surface, gasping for air, arms and legs moving desperately to keep himself above water. Within moments he'd steadied himself enough, and then he trod water and looked around the area.

"Selina!" he called out. "Selina!"

"Bruce," Catwoman shouted over a few yards away. "Over here!"

They swam towards each other that took them a couple of seconds before closing the gap between them.

"Are you okay?" asked Batman gently, cupping her masked face.

"Yeah, I'm okay," nodded Catwoman. "Aside from the punch he gave me and a few bruises, I'm fine."

Batman nodded at her, relieved that she had made it out of the chopper. After recovering from their ordeal, they looked up at the ungodly illumination high above them.

"Holy shit..." breathed Catwoman.

Half of Lady Gotham's once-beautiful face was still flaming, a blazing mockery of all of Batman and Catwoman's efforts.

He slapped the water in frustration and then, with a sigh, he and Catwoman began the long, unpleasant swim to shore, as the burning Lady Gotham lit the way.

* * *

" _Despite a valiant effort last night by Batman and Catwoman,_ " announced a newscaster on the radio. " _Harvey Two-Face is still at large and extremely dangerous. In other news today, millionaire Bruce Wayne extended his profit-sharing program to the employees of the successful electronics branch of Wayne Enterprises._ "

* * *

Bruce was moved to think of Hansel and Gretel, leaving behind a trail of bread crumbs so that they wouldn't get lost. As he toured the electronics division of Wayne Enterprises, he was able to take comfort in the fact that he'd never had to resort to such measures. He'd always have a line of aides and assistants and assistant aides trailing behind him.

Walking slightly ahead of him was Mr. Fred Stickley, the manager. A good man, solid worker, if not always inspired, and even a bit of a fussbudget. Then again, that's the sort of person who could get the job done.

Selina walked beside Bruce with an air of confidence surrounding her, wearing a smart, black business suit complete with a pencil skirt, tights, and black high heels that she knew Bruce would love. Her hair was done in a neat bun, her new thin-framed glasses completed the look.

Being his business partner in the last two years had done a lot of wonders for her. It all started after Shreck's business had been exposed after the incident at the old aquarium, making her realize she had no job to work at. Bruce, being the selfless compassionate man that he was, had offered her a job at Wayne Enterprises to help him further with the supplies and acquired further backing to help other employees with their matching management style, mindset, and technology.

Selina took the job with no problem and was paid with an amount that she would never even thought of, unlike the wages that she barely made when she was Shreck's secretary at his now defunded business.

Life couldn't be any better for Selina Kyle.

" _A hell of a lot better than being some lowly secretary..._ " thought Selina with a grin. " _Eat that, Shreck!_ "

"Your inspections are a departmental highlight," said Mr. Stickley.

Bruce laughed lightly. "Really? You all need to get out more," he said in a slightly self-deprecating manner. That, of course, was his prerogative. When you're the boss and powerful, you could take yourself down a peg every now and then, always confident that an employee would laugh and say, "Very amusing, Mr. Wayne."

All the aides laughed, and Stickley said, "Very amusing, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce slowed and stopped next to a mechanized pedestal that was slowly turning. Atop, it was a metal model of a sleek new airplane. Selina eyed up the model with slight interest with an arched eyebrow. She looked at Stickley questioningly.

"We should be further along than this, shouldn't we?" asked Selina.

Mr. Stickley's head bobbed up and down. "The design appears flawless on paper, Miss Kyle. But we can't achieve an antigravity field. The model plane should float but it doesn't."

Bruce lifted the plane and started walking with it, not before Selina had gently took it from his hand with a slightly cheeky smile. He grinned at her return. She turned it over and over in her hands and began making minute adjustments.

"Hmmm," paused Selina mildly puzzled. "Funny. Should work." She paused and then asked, "Anybody try kicking it?"

Everyone laughed.

"Maybe I should do the honour, Miss Kyle?" asked Bruce jokingly.

"I don't think so, Mr. Wayne," grinned Selina, enjoying the banter. "I've seen what you do with something like this. Besides, I think you thank me and Mr. Fox for fixing all the tech provided."

Once again everyone laughed at the amusement. The banter and the flirtation between Bruce and Selina were nothing new, and it was almost a daily thing since the relationship had been made public. Since going through an entire day working endlessly, their jokes had always made their day.

Being the boss had its moments.

* * *

In his cubicle, Edward Nygma was busily twisting one of the Rubik's cubes. He was murmuring to himself,

"We'll probably be dining at Wayne Manor together," he muttered to himself, envisioned Bruce sitting across from him, and began to launch into a narrative. "Bruce, could you pass the gravy boat? What's that? I forgot you have people who do that, don't you?" He laughed and then in pleased surprise, "Yes. Yes. A party in my honor? I should have rented a tuxedo. What?" he couldn't believe it, "One of yours, Bruce?" He gave it a moment's thought and then shrugged. "Why not? We are the same size."

Then Edward heard something. It was a group heading his way. Chatting and someone would say something, and then they'd all laugh.

"Oh my God, it's him!" he whispered.

Without hesitation, he darted out into the hallway just as the group was approaching from the other direction. Mr. Stickley saw Nygma coming and put a quick hand on Bruce's elbow. Selina had sent Edward a nasty look of her own, not liking the way the creepy fanboy had approached Bruce like that.

"Well, Mr. Wayne," said Mr. Stickley, keeping his tone pleasant despite sending Edward an angry glare.

Bruce turned to Mr. Stickley but suddenly his attention was completely pulled to Edward, who had thrust himself squarely in their path. Edward saw the consternation in Stickley's eyes. Good. Excellent, in fact. Now Stickley was going to see something.

Edward seized Wayne's hand in a viselike grip and started pumping it firmly. Wayne was politely puzzled as he asked, "Mr.?"

"Bruce Wayne. In the flesh," said Edward, still not quite believing that the moment was happening. He was like a raw, open wound, his emotions laid bare.

Mr. Stickley looked as if he were going to have a cerebral hemorrhage.

Selina was more than ready to get her boyfriend as far away from the weirdo as possible. She heard stories

"No. That's me," said Bruce, smiling easily. "And you are?"

At first, Edward didn't realize what Bruce was talking about, and then he ran through his mind what he had just said to Wayne. He winced in chagrin. A classic screwup like that hadn't been part of the plan. But he pressed forward. After all, in the grand scheme of things... in the fabulous, sweeping intertwining destinies of Bruce Wayne and Edward Nygma, such a slip would not even rate a footnote.

"Nygma," Edward introduced. "Edward. Edward Nygma. You hired me personally. Just like I tell everyone."

He saw Bruce's politely puzzled expression and amended, "Well, we've never actually met, but your name was on the hire slip. I have it framed."

Selina was just as puzzled as Bruce, not to mention the way Edward was looking at him with wide eyes, she couldn't help but feel weirded out by his clearly obsessive behavior. She saw that Edward still hadn't let go of Bruce's hand, which he held on far too long for her liking.

"Thank you, Mr. Nygma," said Selina with a hint of annoyance, her demeanor remained professional. "I think Mr. Wayne needs his hand back."

"What?" murmured Edward, his smile almost turned into a frown at Miss Kyle's stern order. "Ah yes. Of course. I'm sorry! It's just that..." He took a deep breath, and looked at Bruce, ignoring Selina. "You're my idol. And some people have been trying to keep us apart."

Selina bit her lip at the offending remark, looking just about anywhere in the room but Nygma.

" _Of course you don't want me around my own boyfriend, you creepy little fanboy..._ " thought Selina darkly.

Bruce looked at Selina, then at Mr. Stickley, who had gone dead white. Still, this fervent fellow clearly had something particular to discuss.

"So, Mr. Nygma, what's on your mind?" asked Bruce politely.

"Precisely!" declared Edward, launching into a spiel that he had been preparing for two months, every day, every night. "What's on all our minds? Brain waves!"

With a determined, yet manic grin, he pushed aside both Mr. Stickley and Selina, who growled at blatant rudeness towards her, acting as if she doesn't exist.

"The future of Wayne Enterprises is brain waves!" grinned Edward before disappearing into his cubicle.

Bruce and Selina turn their heads to each other, his expression showed that of wonder and curiosity, while hers consisted of confusion and a slight hint of suspicion in her eyes.

"Brain waves?" questioned Selina.

"I've no idea what he has in mind, Selina," answered Bruce, "Whatever he said about the future of Wayne Enterprises, that most certainly got my attention."

"Glad that your optimistic about it, Bruce," remarked Selina in a reluctant tone. "But there's just something about this guy doesn't settle in for me."

Holding onto his girlfriend's word, he turned to Mr. Stickley.

"I really do apologize, Mr. Wayne," whispered Mr. Stickley. "I personally terminated his project this morning..."

Edward emerged from his cubicle and whipped out a fancy looking headgear, and held it up in the air with a wide, Cheshire-cat-like smile on his face as if he had just won an award.

"Voilà!" declared Edward dramatically.

Mr. Stickley couldn't help but facepalm at the sight of it.

Selina clicked her tongue at such a bizarre design of the device. First of all, it kind of looked like a cheap bicycle helmet with a triangular piece that looked more like a futuristic popcorn maker.

"My invention," explained Edward all in a rush. "It beams any TV signal directly into the human brain. By stimulating neurons, manipulating brain waves if you will..."

Selina jerked her head up at this reveal. Hold on a sec, brain manipulation he said? Before she could say anything about it, Bruce stepped forward with a considerate expression.

"...this device makes the audience feel like they're inside the show!" finished Edward, sounding very proud. "Why be brutalized by an uncaring world?"

Bruce took off his glasses and pondered at what Edward had just described his invention. He couldn't help to think about this brain manipulation topic sound very off-putting about the whole thing. Again, that would sound like an old saying back when TV was first invented; If you watch too much TV, it will drain your brain.

He hoped for Gotham's sake, that it was all a bluff.

"Did you say manipulating brain waves?" asked Bruce carefully.

There was a slight pause from Edward, hesitating a little about the subject

"Well," said Edward slowly, squirming a little. "Yes."

The rest of the sentence fell deaf upon Selina's ears, rocking her heels a little of wanting to get further away from this weird fanboy who invented brain manipulation machines, which was something that only someone crazy could come up with, and that person was not to far off. She had to admit, she was somewhat interested in the project he was working on, despite his weird obsession with her boyfriend, but like anyone else with common sense, she had to stop right there.

Brain manipulations, mind readings. Something about the whole thing stinks, and it made her skin crawl with having someone know her every move and thought!

" _Fucking eww!_ " shuddered Selina mentally. " _Talk about a literal invasion of privacy!_ "

She looked out the circular window at the end of the room to take her mind off it, then her eyes widen in recognition.

"Bruce..." whispered Selina, nudging his arm with hers.

Bruce turns his attention to Selina, who nodded towards the window. He looked through, and there was the Batsignal projecting into the sky.

Bruce turns away from the window to face Edward.

"I just need a bit of additional funding for human trials," added Edward. "Let me show you, please!"

Selina shook her head at Bruce, who nodded back at her, understanding to each other that they have no time to going to more details about the fanboy's invention, the sooner the better she's far away from it.

Suddenly it seemed as if Bruce's attention had been drawn away. He blinked, then refocused on Edward.

"Listen, Ed," said Bruce, leading him to the front end of the room where he and Selina came from. "I want a full set of your technical schematics on this, okay?"

"I want you to know," Edward jumped in. "We'll be full partners in this, Bruce. Look at us. Two of a kind!"

" _And leave me out of this once again, weirdo_..." fumed Selina, finding herself growing to dislike Edward each second.

"You call my assistant, Margaret," Bruce said, darted away once more with Selina tailing behind. "She'll set something up."

Internally panicking, Edward grabbed Bruce's arm to halt him in his tracks. Edward caught the satisfied, even vindictive gleam in Stickley's face. And he became suddenly painfully aware that if Bruce Wayne walked away without Edward Nygma by his side, then that would be it. It would be finished. All these weeks, months... indeed, a lifetime of planning... and it was crumbling under him just like that.

Selina had thought somewhat of a similar manner as Mr. Stickley. Knowing her boyfriend, there was no way Bruce would go ahead with this, certainly not with something that involves someone's mind being messed with, something that Selina thinks that not even Edward could understand the fact.

"Ah, that's not gonna be good enough for me," admitted Edward. "I need an answer now. I think I deserve it."

Edward's head bobbed eagerly, like one of those little baseball player statues with a spring-head. Now, finally, Bruce would understand the depth of Nygma's devotion to his idol. He would see how important he was to Nygma. How he stood for so much that Edward wanted to emulate.

Bruce thought about this very carefully, seeing Edward held his breath waiting for it. Then, he made the final decision.

"I'm sorry, Ed, then the answer's no," answered Bruce simply.

Selina almost snorted in laughter at Edward's reaction. His face was a picture! Nothing tasted sweeter than seeing someone's pride get bruised. For all the lack of awareness around her, as well with him claiming to be Bruce's idol, and from the looks of it right now, he sure had a funny way of showing it.

"Tampering with people's brain waves. Mind manipulation. It just raises too many questions." Bruce commented firmly.

"And don't forget," smirked Selina stepped into the conversation. "The next time you seek Mr. Wayne's approval in any way possible, try and work on something that doesn't involve mind-raping people."

Edward turns his head to Selina, finally acknowledging her presence. He could feel the temperature in the cubicle drop to subzero, and comment she just made add another salt in the wound.

"And get your grubby hand of my boyfriend, fanboy," demanded Selina in a firm tone that has a certain edge to it, as she roughly dislodged Edward's fingers from around Bruce's arm, Nygma made no effort to hold on.

"Factory looks great, folks," Bruce called out. "Keep up the good work."

Bruce and Selina stepped away from the slack-jawed Nygma, headed back towards their ivory tower as Mr. Stickley clapped his hands briskly.

"All right, everyone," ordered Mr. Stickley. "Back to work!" he moved forward, he stopped next to Edward and murmured, "We'll discuss this later."

Edward was paying almost no attention. Instead, he was staring after the retreating form of Bruce and his good for nothing, interfering little girlfriend that claims to be his business partner always gets in the way of plans.

"You were supposed to understand," he said, continuing to stare right through the door. "I'll make you understand," he vowed in a very low and dangerous tone.


	3. Late Night Games, Riddle Me This

Bruce and Selina marched side by side through the corridors of Wayne Enterprises with a purpose. They stood outside the doors of his private office when Selina placed her hand on his arm in a gentle, yet firm grip.

"Hey Bruce," said Selina. "I'll get the Jag back home. You go on ahead."

"Are you sure, Selina?" asked Bruce.

"Positive," she nodded. "Now get going, I'll be right behind you."

She gave him a quick peck on the lips before she strolled to the other end of the corridor. Bruce watched her go until she disappeared from his view. He then opened the double doors to let himself into his private office.

"Lock," said Bruce briskly.

An electronic lock slammed into place. A bazooka would have been required to get through.

He plopped down into the leather chair and spoke again. "Chair."

And the chair dropped out of sight.

The floor under him had slid back to reveal a hidden transport tunnel. Directly below him was a transport capsule, and the leather chair clicked down smoothly into place. The transport tube ran into a shaft he'd had installed that was nominally for a private elevator. He used the elevator on rare occasions. He used the transport tube, however, far more frequently. And it went a lot further than the bottom of the building.

The capsule rolled forward and then angled sharply downward as it eased into the shaft. It built up speed hurtling down the shaft, holding tightly onto the tracks, and then snapping forward to a normal angle and hurtling underground to a pre-encoded destination. Lights flashed, whipping by at incredible speed.

Inside the capsule, Bruce checked the speed and time readouts and nodded slightly to himself in approval. On the windscreen, a familiar craggy face appeared.

"Alfred," Bruce acknowledged.

"I saw the signal, sir," said the butler. "All is ready."

Alfred was waiting patiently nearby in the vault, when he heard a ping, indicating his young master's arrival. A hidden door slid to reveal the travel capsule, which was rained down by a set of showery sparks.

Bruce stepped out of the capsule, taking his jacket off, and handed it over to Alfred before he picked out one of his Batsuits for the night.

* * *

The Batmobile glided to a halt several blocks away from the GCPD. It sat there for a moment as if contemplating the darkness, and then the cockpit slid open. Batman and Catwoman eased themselves out, then stepped away from the vehicle.

"Shields," he said and moved away without glancing back as the heavy-duty shields slammed into place, locking down the Batmobile.

He walked to the base of a building, pulled out his grappling hook, and fired it skyward. Seconds later he heard the satisfying clack of metal that indicated the hook had a grip on something. He pulled on it twice to make certain that it was firmly anchored. Catwoman had wrapped her arms around his neck tightly, he automatically held onto her waist, then he pressed the retractor. Instantly they were hoisted skyward, joining the shadows of the city's sky-high spires.

They made their way across the roofs toward the roof of police headquarters. If someone had been watching for them with his eyes peeled and the aid of infrared night goggles, then maybe they might have had a shot at spotting either one of the costumed vigilantes. Other than that, there was no chance.

Batman and Catwoman got within one rooftop of the signal. It appeared to be deserted. That was odd. Odd immediately sharpened his senses.

He stayed to the shadows and studied the rooftop carefully, and as if on near-natural instinct, Catwoman slowly grabbed hold of one of her knockout pallets.

" _Okay, something's amiss here,_ " Catwoman wondered to herself.

Then she spotted it. Someone was standing on the other side of the spotlight itself, staring toward the sky. She couldn't quite make it out from where he was, but whoever was over there was taller and slimmer than Gordon.

And, for all she knew, armed.

Catwoman nudged her arm to Batman to let him know what she saw from across. He nodded to her, and like that, he jumped over and she swung herself with her whip behind him

They leaped over to the roof of police headquarters, landing so silently that the unauthorized individual was utterly unaware of it. He moved slowly through the shadows. The rooftop had plenty of gravel on it. It made no sound under his feet.

"Commissioner Gordon?" said Batman in his usual tone.

"He's at home," replied a husky feminine voice.

Batman and Catwoman turned their heads to see where the voice came from. A figure emerged from the shadows to reveal Chase, her hand on her bosom. Her breath came out in the mist through the chill night air.

"I sent the signal," Chase revealed.

" _Oh great, her again..._ " muttered Catwoman mentally, rolling her eyes at the person who she now considered a rival for Batman's affections. She had not forgotten about last night at the foot of the Second National Bank of Gotham before confronting Two-Face, and she wasn't going to let get her to have her way around him again. Not tonight, not any night.

"What's wrong?" asked the Dark Knight.

"Last night at the bank," said Chase. "I noticed something about Dent. His coin. He's obsessed with justice. It's his Achilles' heel. It can be exploited."

Catwoman gently bit her tongue to prevent herself from cursing at the blonde woman in front of her. She couldn't believe it, and neither could Batman. She was telling them nothing new. Hell, she had to know it was nothing new. It was in the case files. She had a feeling that Chase had called them for more than just something the costumed couple already knew.

"You called us here for this?" frowned Catwoman, eyes narrowing at the attractive psychologist. "You should know that the Batsignal is not a beeper. And don't think for a second I've forgotten about your flirtations last night."

To the feline's surprise, Chase didn't back up.

"I wish I could say my interest in you two was purely professional..." breathed Chase in a husky tone.

The latex-clad woman felt a blush forming in her cheeks. The feeling that was becoming familiar to her in every encounter she had with Chase. Her fascination with Batman, which was not entirely new during her time as the caped crusader's partner, the other blonde had sent her charms at her way too, which was something Catwoman has least expected it.

It seems... It seems like she wants them both...

Batman paused a moment, contemplating the best way to handle the situation. She wanted dark, mysterious... All the elements that terrified criminals, that froze thugs in their tracks. These were what attracted her.

"Are you trying to get under my cape, Doctor?" asked Batman, his tone remains unchanged, and stood in a slightly relaxed position.

"A girl cannot live by psychosis alone," she replied.

Which was not exactly the response either Batman or Catwoman hoped for.

"It's the car, right? Chicks love the car." Batman pressed.

Chase giggled at the comment he made, loving where it was going. Then stepped slowly to the left, her eyes not leaving the costumed couple with a slight hint of a triumphant, yet flirtatious grin that formed on her beautiful face. True to her name, she pursued them.

"What is it about the wrong kind of man?" Chase asked wistfully, slowing walking around Batman and Catwoman in a circle. "In grade school, it was guys with earrings. College, motorcycles, and leather jackets. Women, on the other hand, have makeup, earrings, and fashion trends. Now..."

She stopped in front of them to get closed to their personal space. She gently pressed one hand on Batman's sculpted rubber armour and ran one finger between the valley of Catwoman's latex covered breasts. Her eyes glossed with lust, moaning at the contact of the materials on her skin, clearly enjoying this thrilling moment.

"Rubber and latex..." Chase finished huskily.

Catwoman felt her heart race at the bold move the blonde psychologist had just made. She had to admit, she felt a lurch of jealously that formed in her stomach when Chase had decided to openly flirt with Batman in front of her yet again, that feeling soon disappeared when she saw the way Chase was running her finger between her breasts, feeling up her outfit.

The things that this woman was doing to her... The minute she hated her guts for fluttering her eyelashes at her boyfriend in front of her, and whenever she makes the moves on her, along with her unmistakable charm, and after she told them about having a thing about rubber and latex, there was no way she could hate Chase any longer.

It was becoming clear as day that Chase not only has a thing for Batman, she also has a thing for Catwoman too.

Batman, on the other hand, found himself very surprised at this unexpected turn of events. Even though he appeared stoic on the outside, but deep down, he was stunned at the way Chase was doing with Catwoman. Like she was toying with her, as much as she was doing with him.

"Try a fireman. Less to take off," commented Batman, making his way to leave with Catwoman beside him, when Chase stepped in front of them to make them stop.

"I don't mind the work. Pity I can't see behind the mask." grinned Chase, cupping her hands on his masked face, which he gently grabbed hold of her wrists to pull them away.

"We all wear masks, sweetie," said Catwoman, again finding herself surprised at the pet name that formed from her lips.

"My life's an open book. You read?" questioned the blonde psychologist.

He looked at her eyes, at the amusement there, and he dropped the attitude.

"Where do you think this is going to go?" said Batman in a darker tone.

"Depends," said Chase. "Where are you going to take me?"

He took her rather ungently by the wrists. "Are we just another specimen, another lab animal for your maze? Or perhaps you thought of bringing one of us home to meet the folks. In case you haven't noticed, me and Catwoman are not the kind of people who blends in at a family picnic."

Batman turned away from her again until Chase stepped in front of him again.

"We could give it a try," Chase pressed on, brushing her fingertips on his arm, passing them before stepping in front of them yet again. "I'll bring the wine, you bring your scarred psyche."

Chase shrugged her coat off her shoulders, wearing a revealing black dress underneath. She felt the cool October air hitting her skin to feel a slightly pleasant chill down her spine as she looked at the costumed couple with confidence shining in her blue eyes.

Batman remained firmly professional, but with great difficulty. He was fully aware that his girlfriend was standing right next to him, and it wasn't helping at the fact his eyes kept going downwards to her bosom. He fought with every ounce not to just go to her space and kiss her right there and then, but he remained where he was.

Catwoman was facing a similar dilemma as Batman. Her eyes widen at the blonde psychologist's figure. She couldn't believe that Chase has the same taste and fetishes that she has, and not only that, she felt a familiar swirling in her stomach that she tried in her power to deny it had come back full force.

She wasn't willing to admit, even she would be insane to think otherwise, but she couldn't deny that Chase looked incredible in that dress; ravishing even!

Wait! Where did that even come from!? Her green eyes widen at what she thought of Chase.

" _No way!_ " yelled Catwoman in her thoughts. " _There's no way I'm feeling something for her! I'm just standing there and let her make eyes at me, and I'm not even fighting it for goodness sakes! There's no way I'm developing feelings for her! Right? Oh god, this was not meant to happen this way!_ "

"You are direct, aren't you?" Batman commented.

"You like strong women," grinned Chase. "I've done my homework. Or do I need skintight vinyl and a whip like your feline girlfriend next to you?" she added slyly with an arched eyebrow.

Catwoman bit her lip at the comment and sheepishly turned her head in the other direction. She then found herself thinking about the flirty blonde psychologist wearing one of her outfits, and measuring her bullwhip with her tongue in a slow, alluring way. She blushed furiously at the mental image.

" _Stop it Chase,_ " moaned Catwoman internally. " _You're making me question my sexuality..._ "

"I haven't had much luck with women before meeting Catwoman," told Batman.

"Maybe you two just haven't met the right woman to keep you in line..."

He wasn't entirely certain how their mouths had drawn as close as they had. But he was suddenly very aware of their proximity, and of her warm breath against him, with Catwoman standing beside him, holding her breath at what she was about to witness.

Their intimate moment soon came to an end when they heard the door slam open. Batman and Catwoman's heads snapped around as they saw Commissioner Gordon ran through the door of the roof entrance. His trenchcoat, flapping in the breeze, couldn't completely conceal the fact that he'd yanked on his pants over pajamas, his flannel pajama shirt peering out.

"I saw the signal," announced Gordon. "What's going on?"

Chase quickly put her coat back on to cover herself up, clicking her tongue in annoyance that her fun with the costumed couple had ended abruptly.

" _Always next time..._ " wondered Chase, smiling that she had Batman and Catwoman's full attention on her.

Gordon looked from one to the other, puzzlement slowly turning into suspicion.

"Nothing," Batman told him, turning back to Chase. "False alarm."

"Are you sure?" asked Chase, grinning.

Neither of the costumed couple didn't even glance back at her as they leaped side by side onto the adjoining roof, the shadows welcoming them back within their embrace. Chase watched them go with a huge smile on her face, watching them disappear into the darkness, finding herself more excited at their next meet up sometime in the not-so-very-distant future.

Batman glided his way back down to the Batmobile with Catwoman swinging behind him with her whip. He pressed a button on his Utility Belt to open the hatch of the car, and landed behind the wheel safely, with the latex-clad woman landed on her butt onto the passenger's side.

He closed the hatch to ponder on what had just happened up there. He was about to think a little deep, when Catwoman jumped onto him, straddling him with her knees on either side of him, and pulled him into a firm, rough kiss.

He kissed her back, opening his mouth to allow her tongue to touch his, turning their kiss into a full-blown makeout session. He grabbed a handful of her latex-clad ass in a not-so-gently way, to which she made a noise that sounded like a cross between a moan and a growl.

She roughly pulled back from the kiss and looked into his steel-blue eyes with a mix of want, love, and command.

"You. Me. Bedroom. Now!" breathed Catwoman in a demanding tone.

Batman grinned at her without saying a word. She got off him to sit back on her seat, and he pressed the control to ignite the Batmobile's engine to take them back home at a moment's notice.

* * *

Meanwhile, around the same time at Wayne Enterprises, Edward Nygma hunched over his device, working at a fever pitch. He made a few minor adjustments to his invention and moved out of the way of a spark that shot out of the machine.

"Okay," muttered Edward in a determined voice. "Now, I've got it! A-ha!"

His hands moved in a deft, almost-delicate manner. His concentration was complete, the only indication of its intensity being the sweat that beaded his forehead... and the steady stream of muttering.

"Too many questions," mocked Edward, still angered at what his supposed idol had told him earlier tonight. "There's too many questions. There's too many... I'll show you how it works!"

He pointed his tool in a threatening manner at a magazine cover of Bruce on the front. Suddenly, a booming officious voice that sounded like a cross between a foghorn and a Rottweiler that nearly made him jump out of his skin.

"What the hell is going on here!?" barked Mr. Stickley, entering the cubicle to point his accusing finger at Edward. "I told you this project is terminated! I'm calling security!"

Mr. Stickley turned his back to Edward, leaving the cubicle with the quivering scientist in his wake. Edward, not putting up with any of this shit anymore, he got hold of the coffeepot and made two meters behind Mr. Stickley before he brought the thing crashing down to the back of his head with a resounding clang.

Stickley went down without a sound, rendering unconscious.

"Caffeine'll kill ya!" informed Edward.

* * *

Half an hour later, Edward had made final preparations to his test out his invention, and look over Mr. Stickley, who was still knocked out.

He reached his hand out and pulled a single hair from his mustache that somehow made his eyes snap open, quickly regaining consciousness.

"Rise and shine, little guinea pig," whispered Edward in a somewhat creepily.

When Mr. Stickley became aware of his surroundings, he wasn't sure where he was at first. He tried to piece together what had happened, tracing for himself the sequence of events that had resulted in his discovery that he was strapped to a rolling swivel chair.

He felt a dull ache in his head and a further pain in his neck when he tried to look around.

Then he became aware that there was something balanced on his head. He nodded back and forth, trying to shake it off. It felt like a hat or...

There were wires trailing from whatever It was. Wires to a machine, and now enough of his confusion fell away so that he was able to perceive Edward Nygma wearing a similar rig on his own head, making what appeared to be some final adjustments.

"What are you doing, Nygma?" demanded Stickley. "Untie me!"

"This won't hurt a bit," Edward said to his boss. "At least I don't think it will."

Nygma did turn to him then and flashed a brief, if slightly pained grin, as he reached over toward a toggle on the power source.

"What are you doing?" bellowed Mr. Stickley. "Nygma, you touch that switch and-"

"Which one? This?"

He flipped a switch.

The TV screen flared to life, and a green glow emanated from it. And hovering there, in the glow, was a holographic representation of Stickley reeling in a prize bass. Then the figures began to waver and tremble.

"Losing resolution," muttered Edward to himself. "More power."

He threw a second switch, and immediately warning lights flared to life. But the lead time between the warning and the opportunity to shut down was way, way too short. A bolt of green lightning that illuminated the entire cubicle had lanced out from Stickley's headband and onto the TV. The systems, both in the circuitry and in Stickley's own neural pathways, overloaded, and the feedback smashed back into the machine and terminated in Edward's own headband.

If Stickley had been at all aware at this point of what was happening, he would have taken some small measure of rejoicing in the fact that Nygma was screaming as loudly as he was.

But he was not aware of what was happening. Indeed, one look at his glazed, slack expression made it quite clear that he was not aware of anything at all.

But a look into Nygma's eyes would have told the exact opposite. He looked invigorated, even reborn. The normal glimmer of twisted genius had been accelerated by somewhere around a factor of a hundred.

It was as if his brain had been blown in an infinite number of directions all at once, and was now hurriedly reassembling itself. And from that reassembly came different impulses, different thoughts, a scattergun of personalities and notions, people that Nygma and/or Stickley had met, or hated, or loved, or had made an impression on him at all—all of them bubbling to the surface, struggling for their moment, fighting for dominance.

"Edward Nygma, come on down!" barked Edward, sounding much like the host of a game show Edward had enjoyed in his youth. "You're the next contestant on Brain Drain! I'll take what's inside thick skull number one. What have we got for him, Johnny?"

Then for a moment, the emcee eased back and Edward's own personality, what there was of it, at any rate... came roaring back to the surface, speaking so quickly that it would have been impossible for anyone overhearing to understand a single thing he was saying.

"Stickley, I've had a breakthrough!" blabbered Edward, his mind on severe overdrive. "And a breakdown? MAYBE! Nevertheless. I'm smarter. I'm a genius. No, several geniuses. A gaggle. A swarm. A flock of freaking Freuds!"

Edward's mind flared once more, and suddenly he was the short-order cook at the greasy spoon Stickley occasionally stopped by for breakfast on the way to work. Thinking of Wayne grounded him just slightly, and he looked at the slack-jawed Stickley.

"Riddle me this, Fred," grinned Edward. "What is everything to someone and nothing to everyone else? Your mind, baby! And now mine pumps with the power of yours!"

He flashed onto a movie musical that Stickley had fallen asleep watching three weeks ago and, to the tune of Top Hat, White Tie and Tails.

"I'm sucking up your IQ," sang Edward. "Vacuuming your cortex, feeding off your brain!"

And when Stickley had woken up, a British comedy of manners was on.

Edward then switched into a somewhat over-the-top, yet impressive foot dance, waving one arm about and another, even thrusting his crotch dramatically.

"FRED!" he yelled suddenly.

Edward sensed that his mind was starting to peel away completely and, with what little control he had left, he reached over and shut off the machine. The light flickered and died and, with a sigh as if having just physically separated from a lover.

Stickley, on the other hand, had come to again as if he had just woke up from an interesting, yet very intense dream. His vision cleared when he saw Edward leaning back heavily against his machine.

"What a rush!" Nygma murmured loudly, leaving a fading echo.

"What the hell just happened?" questioned Stickley.

"A very surprising side-effect," smiled Edward gleefully, taking off his headgear. "While you were mesmerized by my 3D TV, I utilized your neural energy to grow smarter."

It took Stickley a few moments to truly comprehend what it was that Edward Nygma was telling him. Nygma had been what? Puttering around in his brain? Sucking away neural energy? It was... it was like some sort of mind rape.

"Bruce Wayne was right!" growled Stickley, making no attempt to restrain his fury. "You demented, bizarre, unethical toad! It _is_ brain manipulation!"

Edward looked proudly at the headgear and kissed it tenderly, not listening to any of Stickley's obscenities as he put the device away.

"I'm reporting you to the FCC," threatened Stickley. "The Human Experimentation Board, the AMA, the police, the federal government! You're going up on charges! To court, to jail, and then to a mental institution for the rest of your twisted little life!"

Edward then took extra pleasure in his boss' rants with his childish antics as being shit-your-pants scared, openly mocking his threats, as he dragged the chair that Stickley was still tied up in out of the cubicle and right in the middle of the room.

"But first and foremost, Nygma, you are fired! Do you hear me? _**FIRED!!!**_ " roared Stickley.

Edward stopped what he was doing to look at his soon-to-be former boss. The temperature of the room had changed drastically, and Stickley now felt cold under Nygma's intense gaze.

"I don't think so," said Edward with a demented glee, pushing the chair to which Stickley was tied with both hands.

The chair rolled back across the slick floor at high speed. Stickley saw the danger drawling close with each growing second, starting to yell in panic. The chair was getting closer with each passing second until he smashed through the large round window at the end of the corridor.

Edward shrieked at what transpired had charged up to him, terror and concern on his face.

"Hang on!" yelled a panic-struck Edward.

Clearly, he had not meant for this to happen, and the potential ramifications for the near fatality had...

The chair was teetering on the edge, glass plummeting down and away. Only one thing was keeping him from tumbling off the precipice, and that was the long wire attached to his headband.

Then he leaned in close, gripping the wired headband, and relief had washed over Stickley's face.

"Fred. Babe! You are fired," said Edward with a twisted sneer of contempt, and Stickley's face had turned pale at the meaning behind those words. "Or should I say: terminated."

He yanked the headband off Stickley, and his former boss's only means of support was gone. He barely had time to utter a screech before the chair tilted forwards and out, plummeting to the ground far below.

"SURF'S UP, BIG KAHUNA!" yelled Edward joyously, watching his former boss disappearing below with a thunderous splash. "Ooooooh, nice form, but a little rough on the landing. You may have to settle for the bronze."

He let out an insane laugh of triumph. However, his joy had turned into rage at the thought of Wayne putting the project down, as well as Kyle's belittling comments towards him.

"Questions, Mr. Wayne?" sneered Edward, stomping back to his cubicle. "My work raises too many questions?"

He looked around the place, and then his gaze turned to focus on a surveillance camera up on the wall. He climbed up the step to reach the lens. It was not being monitored, Edward knew, but it had dutifully recorded everything that had happened.

"Why hasn't anybody put you in your place?" muttered Edward to the camera, placing the palm of his hand to cover the lens before the transmission was cut off.

* * *

The next morning at Wayne Manor, Bruce and Selina were sitting on the couch in front of the TV after they got back from their morning workout. Bruce leaned back with a towel around his neck, with Selina resting her head on his shoulder as they were watching the GTV News, showing footage of the Sal Maroni trail with Harvey Dent on the front, just minutes before the horrific accident.

"Harvey Dent," reported the newsreader on TV. "Former district attorney, and once named as Gotham's White Knight was horribly scarred by underworld kingpin, Sal Maroni. Although Batman and Catwoman tried to save him, Dent's left-brain damage transformed him into a violent criminal. Dent, who blames Batman and Catwoman for the accident, has vowed to destroy the masked vigilantes. Harvey Two-Face is extremely dangerous. Repeat, extremely dangerous."

Bruce looked down at the floor and sighed, his mind flooded back to that day. Selina looked up to him to see him not looking at the TV, and immediately knew what he was thinking. She quietly slipped her hand onto his to remind him that he wasn't to blame for what had happened. Over the years, he had kept his emotions well in check years after his parent's deaths, as well his time as Batman, but Selina knew better every time he was on the downer.

Every day, he carried that guilt from the accident, blaming himself for arriving too late. how everything up to this point would've been a lot different had he and Selina had saved him from the acid attack that shook Gotham. A hundred, a thousand times since then, his mind had replayed that moment.

" _Hey! Dent! Cross-examine this!_ "

Bruce could still hear Maroni's voice replaying in his head. It happened so fast, he had barely wrapped his mind at what transpired that day.

If Harvey had just stepped back or ducked, or anything...

But he stood bolt still, surprised, a deer in the headlights, as the vial's contents splashed all over the left side of his face.

The vial would have wound up as glass shards, its contents bubbling away viciously but harmlessly on the courtroom floor, it would have been a simple charge of attempted assault tacked onto the lengthy criminal indictments already facing him, and that would have been that.

There were certain sounds that Bruce would always carry with him. Sounds like his parents' screams, or the tinkling of his mother's broken pearl necklace falling to the ground.

The flapping of wings and the screech of bats, although somehow the memories of the circumstances themselves were somewhat blurred.

Even the crack of his girlfriend's whip.

A couple of other sounds, and now this. This hideous, unspeakable moment and he would never forget the sound of the acid bubbling and burning and eating away at Harvey's face. Harvey's scream was almost secondary, as had been the panicked cries of other people in the courtroom. He'd heard screams before, and certainly enough sounds of a confused and shouting mob. But he'd never, before or since, heard the sound of flesh just being eaten away.

That night he'd come to the hospital as Batman. It seemed to him that Harvey was beyond pain. Instead, Harvey was looking up at him with his one good eye, and there was something in there, a look of hate, betrayal, and anger.

Batman knew that look all too well. It was the look on his face every night when he slid the mask down that covered his features.

It was disturbing to see it turned back at him. Disturbing and something that boded ill for the future.

After all that time that had lead to the former district attorney's downfall, in a way, Bruce felt responsible for Harvey's murderous crusade.

His mind drifted onto the night 2 years ago where Harvey had left Gotham to attend to his family after he received an unexpected emergency phone call, which was something that he couldn't ignore. He had to leave his duties to spend a lot of time with them, therefore he missed out on a lot that had happened in his absence. When he returned after the New Year, Bruce had filled him in on what he had missed, like the Penguin's mayoral campaign, Catwoman's arrival, Batman's framing, and of course, he wouldn't leave out Max Shreck's shady business dealings and his cover-ups.

The phone rang, and to Bruce, it seemed as loud as a cannon barrage for his liking. Selina groaned in annoyance at the sound, burying her head further onto her boyfriend's shoulder in a futile attempt to drown the sound out. He started slightly as Alfred picked up the phone.

"Wayne Manor," He listened for a moment and then turned to the tired couple. "It's Commissioner Gordon. There's been an accident at Wayne Enterprises."

Everything came to a standstill at the news. Bruce remained firmly on his seat, almost frozen stiff at what his old friend had told him. Selina sprung her head from Bruce's shoulders to look at Alfred with wide eyes, and somewhere in her guts like she was sensing some kind of déjà vu in her mind.

"What!?" exclaimed Selina.

* * *

The instinctive feeling had not once left Selina when she and Bruce arrived at Wayne Enterprises to survey the damage of the window, which was covered up with sheets of plastic and was barricaded by the police. She stood next to Bruce, who was in the middle of an intense conversation with Commissioner Gordon. The three then moved away from the window.

"Horrible way to die," admitted Bruce.

"Yes," nodded Gordon.

"The video surveillance cameras are down here," directed Bruce.

"Good," said Gordon. "We'll dredge the river, but with that current, I doubt we'll ever find the body."

Bruce, Selina, and Gordon walked down the other end of the room.

They walked past the cubicle that belonged to a visibly distraught Edward Nymga. He leaned against the outside of his cubicle, sobbing profusely onto the shoulder of the head of personnel. He was not quite sure what to make of this display of grief.

"Why? Oh, why?" moaned Edward inconsolably. "I can't believe it. Two years working in the same office. He was like my father, my brother, or a cousin that visits all the time..."

"Get a grip, Edward." advised the head personnel, handing out a tissue to a sobbing Edward.

Then Edward stopped crying for just long enough to clarify, holding out a note in his hand.

"I found this in my cubicle. You'll find the handwriting matches his exactly, as does his sentence structure and spelling," he added in a perfectly rational voice before breaking down once more. "I couldn't possibly continue on here. The memories. I'll get my things."

He ducked quickly into his cubicle, where he'd already boxed up his invention. The man in personnel used the opportunity to slip away.

* * *

Bruce, Selina, and Gordon stood in front of the security console.

"This is last night's security log," said Bruce, switching on the monitor to study the recorded footage from the night before. "There's Stickley."

In the video, the image was in clear black and white, and Stickley was visible in the empty room. He looked like he was walking at first, and then came charging towards the window with his arms out. The sound of his sobbing was audible, as does the shattered glass that was followed by his deathly scream which faded down below.

Selina turned her head away from the footage with her eyes closed, not willing to watch any more of it, as memories she would rather forget slowly start to bubble beneath the surface.

"Pretty cut and dry," commented Gordon.

The head of personnel entered the room and handed Bruce what appeared to be a suicide letter.

**To: Whom It May Concern**

**From: Fred Stickley**

**RE: My Suicide**

**GOODBYE**

**CRUEL**

**WORLD!**

**Yours truly.**

Bruce handed it over to Selina, who took it to read it for herself before passing it over to Gordon.

"Yep, definitely suicide," concluded Gordon. "Thanks very much for your help, Bruce. We'll be in touch."

Gordon shook hands with Bruce, then with Selina briskly before he and the GCPD depart, leaving the couple alone with their thoughts.

* * *

Moments later, the couple was walking up the corridor to the reception as Margaret, Bruce's assistant was following them in, scribbling notes furiously.

"Stickley's suicide doesn't make sense," said Bruce in an incredulous manner.

"I agree with you on that one, Bruce," added Selina. "Something about this sounds kinda fishy to me. Besides, we need to get in touch with his family, as we want full benefits for them."

"Suicide's not covered by our corporate insurance policy," stated Margaret.

"I know. Full benefits," said Bruce.

Margaret nodded. There was no point in arguing, and besides, she had no intention of trying to act the heavy in this instance. Taking the opportunity to attend to unfinished business, she flipped to a different page in her notebooks.

"Gossip Gerty has called a record 32 times," said Margaret. "She said if you're gonna take Miss Kyle to the charity circus."

Selina rolled her eyes at what she told them. Before either she or Bruce even comment on the subject of how Gerty was sticking her nose into their relationship about a thousand times, they notice an envelope on the desk. It was black, and it had a bright green question mark inlayed on the front.

"What's this?" asked Bruce.

"I don't know," answered Margaret, genuinely puzzled. "I didn't see anyone."

Selina picked it up from the desk to hand it over to Bruce. He opened it, and the first thing that saw was a pop-up book that appeared to be homemade, and it had a cut-out photo of Bruce with a green arrow pointing up at the top of the head. He pulled the head as instructed, and from what Selina saw that nearly made her eyes widen in astoundment, and somewhat perplexed, a photo of Bruce made him look comical. It's noticeable bog eyes, and wide open-mouth and the pop-up even added a cartoonish long tongue that looked like it was written with letters that were cut from old newspapers and stuck them on with glue.

" _If you look at the numbers upon my face, you won't find 13 anyplace._ " read Bruce.

"Say what?" Margaret wasn't sure what she'd been expecting inside the envelope, but it certainly hadn't been that.

Bruce turned the paper over, but there was no signature. He looked back at the message.

"It's a riddle," realized Bruce. "Numbers on my face, 13."

Selina took the pop-up message between her index and middle fingers to read what it actually means.

"One through 12," muttered Selina before giving out the answer. "The clock is the answer."

"Who would send you a riddle?" asked Margaret, scratching her head.

"That, Maggie, is the riddle," said Bruce wonderingly.

With one bizarre thing after another, Selina felt a migraine forming in her head, closing her eyes, and running her hand on her forehead to relieve the pain. Like, what is going on? Had she took some crazy pills this morning? First, there was an accident here, then finding out that Stickley had killed himself, which didn't even make any sense in the slightest! Like why would anyone commit suicide out of the blue just like that when Stickley was happy going on with his life and his job the last time she saw him and showed no sign of any suicidal tendencies. Now, there was someone out there sending letters, or riddles rather, to Bruce.

Something is definitely amiss here.

Couldn't this day get any weirder?

* * *

In downtown Gotham, Edward unlocked the door to his apartment with his key. He walked through and clapped his hands twice to light up the room.

The apartment inside was small and somewhat cramped, but it was filled with all kinds of things. There was a little desk that had all kinds of gadgetry and electronic equipment laying about along with Rubik's cubes, assorted games, dozens of puzzle books. The wall in front of the desk has various photos, magazine covers, and newspaper articles relating to Bruce Wayne.

Right next to a stack of miniature TV monitors that were hooked up altogether, was a fully functional animatronic dummy in a glass display case that were usually seen in fairs. The dummy appeared to be wearing a green suit with black question marks all over it, complete with a matching bowl hat. It was grinning maniacally, and the arm of the dummy was slowly moving left and right back and forth to point a green light bulb with a question mark labeled on the front that was followed by an electronic sound effect, then to a red one that said 'NO', added with a sound that someone had failed a game or something.

Edward stepped in front of the animatronic which he named "The Guesser."

"Guess what I did today?" told Edward to the dummy as if it were a person.

Then Edward got to work on making something like an arts and crafts project, cutting out letters and specific words to glue them together to create a fancy, yet bizarre letter with a certain millionaire in mind.

The dummy made an electronic maddening laugh.

* * *

It was late into the night and Edward made his way through a forest area with his bicycle and slowly came to a stop in front of the iron gates. He looked overhead to see the stately home of Wayne Manor in its impressive glory.

"Wayne Manor," said Edward scornfully with a hint of jealously in his voice. "Hmph!"

Edward reached his arm to take out the letter from the basket that was attached to the front of his bike. The latter was bright green with a black question mark on the front, as he stuck it on the bars of the gate.

"See you soon," whispered Edward, waving at the mansion before he departed the area, leaving the letter in his wake.

* * *

Bruce Wayne drove his gleaming red Jag into the municipal police complex with Selina Kyle at the front seat, the guard recognizing them and waving them through immediately. He pulled into a spot, made a mental note of a car parked. He climbed out and walking into the GCPD building, taking Selina's hand as they walk into the main reception hall where one officer was doing his paperwork on the desk.

"Dr. Meridian, please," asked Bruce politely, the officer pointing to the right was his answer. "Thank you." The couple made their way upstairs.

Dr. Meridian was a fairly new arrival to Gotham City, and Gordon had rather graciously afforded her office space at the police complex. In return, she made herself available several days a week to consult with Gordon and other police officers on various investigations. Her private practice was just starting up, but knowing what a major supporter of the police the Wayne Foundation had always been, she had agreed to make time for him.

The couple walked briskly down the hallway, Bruce turned to Selina, who had an unreadable expression on her face that seemed to catch his attention.

"I don't see the reason why we have to see Chase?" asked Selina.

"Well, I want to see what she makes of this person who sent me those letters," stated Bruce.

"I don't know, Bruce. It's just..." paused Selina before sighing. "I'm not sure what to make of her."

"What's the matter? Jealous?" he grinned with a raised eyebrow.

"Me? Jealous?" scuffed Selina, rolling her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. I mean, what if she comes between us? After everything we've been through together 2 years ago. After Shreck and the Penguin, I don't want everything we have to just disappear."

"Nothing will come between us, Selina," assured Bruce. "Besides, from the way I've seen her, it looks like I'm not the only one she's making eyes at." he finished with an amused grin.

Memories from last night at the roof had sent Selina blushing. She tried to give him a disapproving glare, only to fail when she looked away embarrassed.

"Low blow, Mr. Wayne. Low blow..." groaned Selina.

Before they could get any further as they approached the office, they heard grunts and the sounds of combat from within. They heard Chase cry out, and there was the sound of a vicious punch being landed.

Bruce and Selina turn their heads to each other, instinctiveness took over their beings as they rushed to the door. Quickly he tried the doorknob, but it was locked tight.

Without hesitation or regard to his secret identity, Bruce rammed his shoulder to open the door. The lock and knob flew off, clattering to the floor, and the door banged inward. He and Selina ran though, ready for combat, then skidded to a halt at what they did not expect.

Chase's hair was a bit matted and hanging down. Her fists were taped up and poised in front of the punching bag that she had been whaling into until Bruce and Selina had charged into her office.

There was a long moment of tension that didn't seem to arise from stress but from something else entirely. To Selina, the air surrounding them gave her a sense of awkwardness.

"I guess we're early. We have an appointment," uttered Bruce, trying to act as casual as he possibly could. "I'm Bruce Wayne."

"I'm Selina Kyle," she introduced with an awkward wave and a sheepish smile.

"Oh good," breathed Chase, annoyance building up in her system. "Then you can afford me a new door."

"I... Sorry," stammered Bruce uncharacteristically, picking up the collapsed door with both hands and placed it back at a slightly odd angle, as Selina placed both her hands in her face to hide her scrunched up embarrassed look at this slightly misunderstanding situation that he got them into.

Definitely not the way to make a first impression meeting her as themselves.

"I thought you were," said the millionaire sheepishly. "You know, trouble."

Chase shook her head at his stammering, clearly unamused by all of this.

"I prefer healthy expressions of violence as opposed to breaking and entering," she commented.

Selina then got over her embarrassment before going up to Bruce to swat him on the back of his shoulder in a not-so-gentle way.

"What was that for?" asked Bruce, rubbing the spot where she slapped.

"Don't you ever think before jumping into action?" scolded Selina. "Might as well go about and charge into the fray without thinking and ask questions later!"

Chase's anger about the break-in was soon forgotten about, as she watched the couple bicker to each other with an amused look on her face. She had seen them flirt through news tabloids and on TV, and it was no secret why the press had called them Gotham's Golden Couple, and felt a slight bit of resentment, wishing she were in Selina's shoes.

"You know," Chase butted in after a moment, breaking the couple's mini argument. "As much it's fun seeing you two act like a married couple, I think you two forgot the real reason why you're here."

"Oh yes," Bruce, shaking Chase's hand with Selina doing the same before he reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the two riddles. "Somebody's been sending me love letters. One at my office, one at home. Commissioner Gordon thought you might give me your expert opinion."

Chase reached to take one from Bruce to read the one he received in his office last night.

"A clock," said Chase.

"A clock." nodded Selina.

They looked at each other before Chase opens the second riddle to see yet another photo of Bruce with another question made out of letters from old newspapers.

" _Tear one off and scratch my head,_ " read Chase, pulling down the arrow to show what looked like a green x-ray of a skull in place of Bruce's head. " _What once was red is black instead?_ "

"A match," indicated Bruce.

She nodded absently and continued to study the riddles, looking for some further clue or indicator of the author's mindset. The first one seemed as if it had been done hurriedly, but the second was far more elaborate. Letters were trimmed out of newspaper and magazine headlines, and there was also bizarre calligraphy around the edges. Question marks snaking in and out of everywhere. And, most disturbing, a border composed of dripping daggers.

Selina, in her honest opinion, thought these riddles were slowly getting more baffling and bizarre each time. Whoever sent those riddle to Bruce, obviously have an obsession or a grudge against him. Then again, this is Gotham City after all where all the crooks gave the law and order a huge middle finger and almost seemingly get away with it. Of course, there are people out there who are against him, not just as Batman, but himself as well.

"My opinion," observed Chase. "This letter writer is a total wacko."

"Wacko?" repeated Selina with a hint of amusement. "Is that a technical term?"

"Patient may suffer from obsessional syndrome with potential homicidal tendencies," told the blonde psychologist. "Work better for you?"

"So what you're saying is that this guy's a total wacko, right?" asked Bruce.

"Exactly." smiled Chase just slightly. "He's obsessed with you. His only escape to maybe purge the fixation."

Bruce moved two meters, folding his arms at what he thought was the only answer. First Two-Face, and now it's this person who sends out bizarre riddles.

"To kill me," he concluded.

"I think you understand obsession better than you let on," grinned Chase.

"Trust me, Doctor," Selina finally said. "It's not the first time Bruce has dealt with obsessive guys. I'm sure it's not the last either."

"When you're dating a philanthropist, Miss Kyle, there will be followers and admirers with obsessive tendencies," Chase said, unwrapping the tape from her hands and putting the boxing gloves in her bag.

Selina sighed, not surprised at the answer. She walked over to Bruce's side to wrap her arm around his waist. Then they saw a framed print of a bat on the wall. This struck them as rather odd. It wasn't the sort of thing one ordinarily would stumble over in an office, particularly a shrink's. But there indeed it was, black and with its wings spread wide.

"You have a thing for bats?" said Bruce, pointing at it.

From her expression, it was clear that she hadn't a clue as to what he was talking about, but Selina knew better. Chase turned to see where Bruce was pointing, and when she looked back at him it was with that unmistakable air of clinical interest in her eyes.

"That's a Rorschach, Mr. Wayne" pointed Chase, putting on her hoodie to warm herself. "An inkblot. People see what they want. I think the question would be, do _you_ have a thing for bats?"

Selina bit her lip at the simple, yet interesting question.

" _Again, it's your fascination with us as Batman and Catwoman..._ " thought Selina. " _I must admit, she really knows what she's capable of her job, and I have to say, there's more to Chase than she meets the eye, despite the rocky start I had with her as Catwoman..._ "

Bruce chose not to answer as he picked up a small wicker totem doll from the table.

"Still playing with dolls, Doctor?" questioned Bruce.

"She's a Malaysian dream warden," revealed Chase. "Some cultures believe it protects you from bad dreams. Silly to you both, I'm sure."

Bruce's mind was elsewhere the longer he stared into it. He had been having some nightmares as of late, nightmares involving the night of his parent's deaths when he was a child, and the years he had to endure growing up without them.

Selina too was looking into it, as memories of that certain, traumatizing night almost emerged from the surface with a vengeance.

_Shreck came forward and pushed her out the window screaming as she plummeted into the darkness and swirling snow falling through three awnings slowing her fall but couldn't delay the inevitable as she hit the snowy ground beneath her._

_Help me..._

_Someone... Please help me..._

Selina closed her eyes as if she were reliving the night where Shreck had pushed her out of the window. She can still remember the cold, snowy ground hitting her back, and yesterday morning after watching the security footage of Stickley jumping out of the window has almost brought her back to that night. It wasn't up until now when she laid eyes on that creepy doll.

_Please... Help me... Batman...please..._

_Miss Kitty..._

Chase saw the expressions on the couple. Somewhere within her, her little inner psychiatrist had wanted to ask them, but the looks on Bruce and Selina's faces told her otherwise.

"You look so sad. Do you need one?" mentioned Chase.

"Me?" Bruce laughed easily, putting the doll back. He was clearly rather practiced at masking his feelings. "No. Why would I?"

Selina shook her head out of her depressing thoughts, sent a smile at Chase.

"Well, we're okay. Why exactly would we be upset over?" commented Selina.

Chase made a thrust forward, a probing question. "You two are not exactly what you seem, are you? What is it you really came here for?"

They wanted to answer her. That much she could easily see. But instead, Bruce coolly looked at his watch and said, "Oops. Time's up."

"That's usually my line." grinned Chase.

"Look, I'd love to keep chatting..." murmured Selina.

"Would you, Miss Kyle?" Chase flirted. "I'm not so sure."

"What Selina was going to say that we would love to keep chatting, but I'm going to have to get you out of those clothes," said Bruce rather boldly.

She felt lost.

"Excuse me?" blinked Chase in complete bafflement.

"And into a black dress." he finished.

" _Smooth save, Brucie..._ " thought Selina, raising her eyebrows at him at this rather bold suggestion to the blonde psychologist.

"Tell me Doctor, do like the circus?" Bruce asked her.

**A/N: Chapter 3 done. This one took a bit longer than expected. Things are slowly looking up with the Bruce/Selina/Chase love triangle, as we head further into the next chapter to see where this uncommon relationship will take them. Also, as you can clearly see, Selina hasn't quite gotten over her traumatic experience from Batman Returns and is having some flashbacks of her first death, which me and neostardustdragon101 will go further into in the upcoming next chapter. Speaking of which, we will get some work into it right away, as we hope we won't take long into posting it where we finally get to introduce Dick Grayson into the story. Peace!**


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